Sol's Journal
by arrow maker
Summary: Years after a group of people, including her halfsister, saved Neverwinter, Solafae Barrindar leaves her second life in West Harbor to begin a journey that will undoubtedly change her forever, much to her displeasure. Rating will change with new chapters
1. Part I

**3/4/1388**

I begin this journal only a day after the tenth anniversary of my stay at West Harbor. I've never written a document such as this before. I've kept notes on my tactics, on my troops, and logs during my campaigns, but never a personal journal.

I'll start by introducing myself. My name is Solafae Barrindar, though others may refer to me by different titles. My troops called me General, my enemies referred to me as "The Butcher", and my half-sister calls me "Sol." Or "Thug" when she is in one of her moods and desires something from me. No doubt you have heard of Ilivarra.

But this tale is not about her, for I am quite different from her. I'm not going to run off with a bard, pursue a twenty year grudge against a single mercenary, nor am I going to mother the child of purple-haired rogue sometime in my travels. I am simply going to live this new life that I have been granted, and take whatever befalls me with rationality and practicality.

A physical description is in order. My eyes are blood-red, the identical twins of my mother's eyes. Matron Guliara's eyes were known to smolder like embers when she was angry, and to be as hard and unyielding as priceless rubies when she calculated her actions. Mine are much the same. My skin is the dark shade that accompanies my race, the drow, and my hair is stark white except for two stray crimson strands that lurk just above my eyes. They have been that color as long as I can remember. My hair falls just past my shoulders, but I tie it back for battle's sake. I also braid armor piercing spikes into the thick locks, so anyone who tries to use my hair to their advantage will be very sorry.

I have a very pretty face, despite all the blows I've taken to my skull. My height is five feet and ten inches, far more than average for a dark elf, most likely a product of my devil's blood. I am built athletically, yet I do not look a strong as I truly am. Truthfully, my strength has been said to rival that of a giant's. My armor is meant to make me appear larger than my already sleek and lean form allows. It is not an asset to my vanity, but I am a warrior, not a model.

But enough about my appearance. It is not important. I will not go into great detail, but in my first life, I was the daughter of Matron Guliara Barrindar, and general to her troops. I lived serving under her banner, and I died in a final battle for the Barrindar House. After I died, Lolth abandoned me as a cleric, and my skills as a fighter were put to use in the Blood War. The war is a topic that I am reluctant to discuss, suffice to say that it lead me to ponder upon the point of such warfare. And when one ponders and doubts, one cannot put their full self into the battle at hand.

As it turns out, just as I was start to slip into the darkness of reflection, I was summoned by a wizard on the Prime Material Plane. That wizard was none other than Ilivarra, requesting my help in a war against the very matron that killed our mother and attempted to wipe out our house. I had no grudge against her, but I was ready to do something besides participate in a useless war. So I agreed, but on the condition that Ilivarra not send me back to the lower planes once my task reached a conclusion.

That was a decade previous, and I now reside in the village of West Harbor. Yet, my pondering has not ceased. I ask myself questions now that I never would have considered in my first life. Regardless, such questions lead to nothing. My mind must be focused on the task at hand.

My foster father, Daeghun, approaches me, no doubt wanting my attention. I shall put this journal away now, and see to him.

**3/5/1388**

The "Harvest Festival" took place today. I had forgotten until Bevil rushed into my room, screaming, "Wake up, Solafae!" at the top of his lungs.

Out of sheer reflex, I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards me until our faces were only inches apart. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand." I growled, never releasing my iron grip. Being woken up like the mother of a five-year-old child with attention deficit disorder on Midwinter morning is not something I take kindly to.

Bevil gulped. Ten years, and he still hasn't gotten used to my occasionally violent reactions.

"It's the Harvest Festival." said a voice behind him. Amie. The mage-in-training that Tarmas had taken in recently. She lacks the arrogance, the volatile temper, and the moodiness that seems to plague most wizards, but I'm confident that she'll develop it in time.

Bevil nodded vigourously. "Those Mossfields keep bragging about how they've won the cup three years in a row. But I bet you could teach them a lesson."

"I'm not going to teach them anything." I replied, covering my face with a pillow.

The fighter tried to yank my arm away, but to no avail. "Why not, Solafae?"

I sighed into my pillow. I really am not a morning person. "Because beating someone into the dirt for the sake of pride is pointless and immature. Let them have their glory. It's not hurting anyone."

"C'mon, Sol! Either way, you have to deliver those furs to Galen like Daeghun said."

I scowled. He was right. "Very well," I freed my face from its fluffy prison. "I'll go. But I'm not going to fight. And don't call me Sol. My sister calls me that, and it's irritating." To be fair, it's not so irritating once I'm fully awake. In fact, I am normally not so irritable when I am fully awake.

"When are we gonna meet this sister of yours?" asked Bevil.

"It would be great if she came to visit some time. Or if she brought some of her friends with her." added Amie. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was eager to learn mage lore from someone other than Tarmas.

I don't understand what it is people see in my sister. Excited whispers always follow every time I mention the name Barrindar. My sister is just another renegade drow stuck on the surface. She and her friends may have gained fame (much to her displeasure) for saving the city of Neverwinter, and parts of the Underdark before, but she's not a demi-goddess. She's just Ili. The little girl that I used as my page every now and then when she was a child. The woman that brought me to the prime material plane. The half-sister that does not see me often, because she has a child and a husband to take care of. There's nothing special about her, or me. We just…are.

"Hopefully, you'll both be spared from her prescence." I replied shortly, standing up to donn a pair of breeches and a loose shirt. I strapped my boots to my feet and my swords to my back. My swords used to be part of a whole, which I wielded as a double sword. Someone once said that when I wielded my blades, it was like watching Hell's Fury unleashed. The name stuck. Hell's Fury was broken in two at the hilt by Sinvyl Barri'tar, the Valsharess. The blades stuck with me in death, and I wasn't about to abandon them either. So, I took them as dual swords.

An hour later, Webb Mossfield's face lay in the dirt, my fist the reason for his fall. It felt somewhat good, seeing the smirk wiped off that smug male's face. But it would not have made much difference to me had he continued to boast his skills. Not much rattles me, and Webb is no exception.

I gave him a cold look and offered him my hand, but he spat at my feet. In turn, I kicked him in the face. Not out of anger, but out of principle. I do not tolerate disrespect in a fight such as that, and I will answer with fair retribution.

Our resident priest of Lathandar was quick to lecture me, but I was not interested in his words. I do not worship Lathandar. I do not know which god I worship. Lolth may have left me, but some deity still grants me power. It is nothing much, but I can heal light wounds. Which is the same as my power under Lolth. I was never a high priestess of the spider queen. I enrolled in the academy for three years, but my mother allowed me to drop out when she saw that my skills were better put to use on a battlefield. My younger sisters, Valquarra and Reloniira, would be the high priestesses of the family.

After the brawl, I delivered the furs to Galen and set off with Bevil and Amie to win the other challenges. The only reason I participated in the fair is because I consider them allies. I've known them both since they were children, and they've grown attached to me. I cannot complain. Allies are scarce to come by and to keep, and one needs all the allies one can get.

I won the archery contest with seven out of ten shots. I am a mistress of blades, not ranged weapons. The other challenges we won with Amie and a rogue boy we recruited for the thief challenges. Georg called us to stage to announce our victory. I stood there, feeling much like an animal on display, but not allowing any of my feelings to show as Georg made his speech.

When Daeghun saw me on the stage, he seemed proud. I am not sure. He is not one for showing emotion. Niether am I, his attitude suits me.

Once the fair ended, I retreated to my spot. My spot is the part of the swamp I discovered two years ago. I go there to practice my swordplay, and sometimes, to think. When I begin my wondering, it is always the same set of questions. Why did I spend my first life following orders and leading my troops? Did I waste my life on something pointless like I did my death? Is there any value in my new life? I try to push these questions to the back of my mind, but they keep sprouting up like the weeds that decorate the small patch of grass in my spot. Questions are pointless. I can't stand wasting my time.

Daeghun has extinguished the torches now. I could continue to write in the dark, but no doubt my pen scratching would wake my foster-father. Many years as a ranger have made his ears sensitive to the slightest sound. Now is the time for sleep, for I already hear him beginning to stir.


	2. Part II

**3/6/1388**

I awoke to the sounds of battle. A cacophony of shouts, clangs, and cries that make up the call of warfare. I was instantly out of bed and donning my armor. This type of battling is my domain. Just as a forest is to a druid, a city is to a thief, and the sea is to a sailor.

Bevil walked in just as I strapped the pieces of Hell's Fury to my back.

"We're under attack! West Harbor is under attack!" He had only experienced the sparring of militia training, never the fight for life that comes with a true attack. It was because of this that the boy did not possess the cool head of an experienced warrior.

"Then let's go." I replied, not wanting to waste time asking questions. There would be plenty of time for questions later—if we survived.

Amie soon appeared, and my allies and I made haste out of Daeghun's home and into the fray of battle.

The creatures we fought were duergar. Their leaders, githyanki. I recognized them instantaneously, having encountered them in the Underdark. My mother was also known to…keep the company, of certain members of the species.

The battle itself was fairly unremarkable. We came, we slaughtered, we prevailed. Georg gave us the task of recruiting several people to help against the onslaught. Such was another typical task, until we encountered Tarmas.

The wizard was engaged in combat with a Githyanki mage. Tarmas shouted at us to stay out of the battle. I heeded his words. Mages are dangerous to fight, and even more dangerous when interrupted in a previous battle.

Amie on the other hand, made the foolish choice of stepping in.

"Master! Let me help!"

Those were her last words before the Gith killed her with a simple spell.

Bevil looked to be distraught, but I have seen many comrades fall in my lifetime. She was no different. And we did not have time to grieve.

The village eventually prevailed against the onslaught, but there were further tasks for us to complete. The first was to rescue the inhabitants of the Starling farm.

When Bevil and I entered, his mother appeared perfectly safe, despite her troubled expression. She told us that Bevil's brother was trapped in one of the rooms of the house, dangerously close to the creatures that attacked. With the assistance of the Starling hounds, Bevil and I took care of the invaders.

Bevil's brother's eyes were filled with delight when we found him.

"Yaaaaay - Solafae! We heard them screaming for mercy as they died! Is there any blood? Can we see?"

"Hush." I said sternly. "You'll attract more enemies, and we may not be able to get rid of them before they get to you."

The children's eyes went wide. "We're sorry! We'll stay here and be quiet - we promise!"

Bevil glared at me. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes." We could not have the children leading any stray creatures to us.

After the battle finally ended, Daeghun set Bevil and us on another mission. We were to go to the ruins near West Harbor and recover some shard. I did not ask questions. I know he would not answer.

The ruins had been invaded by Lizardmen, but after much fighting, I was able to persuade the leader to cease his attacks. I can be diplomatic when the opportunity arrises.

We recovered a shard of some silver material from one of the chests decorating the room. I cannot help but feel I have seen such an object before, but I do not know where.

When I returned, Dhaegun mentioned several things about the ruins of Illefarn and the shard's importance, but that was no concern of mine. My concern was my next task.

I am to travel to the city of Neverwinter and meet my…Uncle. Duncan. And bring the shard to his estate so that I might retrieve a second shard. Then, we will set about finding meaning of the objects with the help of a mage.

Dhaegun suggested that I say my goodbyes before leaving, but I felt no need to bid anyone farewell. They will know of my absence soon enough, and I bear no sentimental attachment to this village.

I have stopped for the night, and I will stop this passage now.

**3/7/1388**

I have traveled for a single day now, with only some events worth mentioning other than constant travel.

The first is the way I awoke, which was to a knife pressed against my throat.

"Be a good girl, lass." The bandit's hot breath sounded in my pointed ears. "And we'll be good to yeh too." His grimy fingers caressed my cheek, and I could just picture the lecherous grin on his face.

Ignoring the sound of his guffawing comrades, I made my voice colder than the chill of Cania. "When you reach Kelemvor, you'll be grateful after what I'm going to do to you." Some of my sisters were defiled in the manner he implied. Others came close. I would NEVER allow such degradation to befall me.

With speed that few know I possessed, I latched onto the bandit's arm. It broke beneath my iron grip, and he let out a howl of agony. Not waiting for him to recover, I grabbed him by the head and twisted his skull until his face was perpendicular to his backside.

While his companions stared in horror and shock, I clenched my fists, waiting for my natural weapons to appear. Claws replaced my fingernails, and I used them the sever the second bandit's jugular. The last bandit, I tore out his heart with my bare hands.

You may think me a butcher, as do most who see me fight, but you should know that I would not have slaughtered those men in such a manner had they not deserved. I couldn't help but feel a slight bit of cynical amusement. My sister, the "great hero", would have approved greatly of my actions.

I wonder why she continues to invade my thoughts. Perhaps it is because I am traveling to Neverwinter. My sister despises Neverwinter. If I recall correctly, she considers it "a stinking, filthy shithole of a city" and "would not step foot in that shithole for all the spells in the planes." I do not know why she hates it. I know that she had several disagreements with Lord Nasher, and the city itself. I also know that it is the city where she first met her husband, Aiden, and became impregnated with his child. She is loathe to speak of it. Both the positive and the negative impacts it had on her.

The second event took place when I decided to stop at an inn called the "Weeping Willow." Upon arrival, I saw a fight between a dwarf and three men about to take place. Clearly drunk, the humans attacked the dwarf for the sheer thrill of bullying someone small. Pathetic.

I decided to help the dwarf. His enemies picked a fight without reason or rationality. They deserved to be taught a lesson.

Together, we dispatched the men with ease. The dwarf looked at me with admiration. He offered his name, Khelgar Ironfist, and expressed is approval of my fighting. I returned it, he is a good fighter. We soon went into the inn for drinks and story swapping. He told the stories, and I listened. He showed some interest when I told him my last name.

"Barrindar eh? Same as the drow lass that came out of Neverwinter about fourteen years back? With the rogue, the bard, the ranger, the priest, and those paladins, methinks? I heard she's a devil of a fighter. Wouldn't mind testin' her blades against me axe one day. All in fun o'course.You her kin?"

"Barrindar is not a common name." I replied carefully. Ilivarra has made both friends and enemies over the years. I must careful when I do not know which I am dealing with.

Just as he was about to finish another story, I was attacked by another group of creatures, but I took care of them with Khelgar's help. He is quite quick to fight. An attribute I can use to my advantage. We now travel together, and I lead the way to Highcliff, the port to Neverwinter.

We have stopped for the night, and my discussion with you must end. A warrior that does not sleep is a sluggish fighter.

P.S. I need to stop addressing this journal as "You."


	3. Part III

**3/9/1388**

Khelgar and I encountered a teifling today on our way to High Cliff. We wre soon to pass through Fort Locke, when we heard a woman's cry up the road.

"I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Yeah right. Tell us where your friends and maybe we'll be merciful, bandit!"

We approached slowly, waiting to see how this would play out.

"I'm not a bandit!" A fire-haired and flame-eyed teifling girl yelled. She couldn't have been more than in her late teens or early twenties. "Are you deaf or stupid or both?"

"Deaf and stupid!?" One of the soldiers shouted with indignation. "You'll pay for those words, girl!"

I decided that was the time to step forward.

"Leave her alone."

One of the soldiers turned to face me. He let out a smirk. "Don't worry, you bug-worshiping whore. We'll get to you soon enough. I'm sure our commander will give us double the bounty for the head of dark elf."

I leveled a cold gaze at them. Fights of prejudice are a waste of fighting talent.

"Draw your weapons." I commanded, my voice an icy whisper.

Before the apparent leader could reply, his head fell from his shoulders to the ground. His body soon followed, a puddle of blood staining his lifeless form. I twirled my now blood-splattered blades, ready for the next fight.

These men were trained soldiers, not inexperienced highway men like I had fought yesterday's morn. But they were not strong enough to withstand the combined wrath of myself, Khelgar, and the teifling girl.

When it was finished, the girl turned to me. Rather than being shaken by the bloodshed she had witnessed, she seemed delighted by the success of the fight. Unsurprising. A fiendish planetouched put off by violence is a rare instance.

"They should have known better than to think they could take a dark elf... not many people make that mistake twice." Without a thought, she pushed on. Is that the right word for it?

"Sorry if I sound surprised - it's just, you know, people don't usually help me out like that... especially, uh, well, people like you, you know, you don't really have that reputation. Not that you couldn't if you didn't want to... you know?"

Deciding that she was finished with her jabbering, I shrugged, "I suppose so."

She smiled. "Yeah. Lucky me, huh? Better to be lucky than good! Someone told me that once. It's a good way to think about things sometimes, you know?"

Before I could reply, she rapidly added, "I mean, once folks catch sight of me - usually it's the horns - they run in the other direction. And all those tales about tieflings being cursed don't help much, either."

I have never thought of my diabolical blood to be a true hindrance. It is simply a part of who I am, such as my name or my eye color. There has only been one exception to my views, but that is a story for another time.

She grinned. "I'm Neeshka, by the way. I'm really glad you came when you did." A little quieter, she muttered more to herself "Wasn't really sure how I'd get out of that one." She scowled. "Of course, they never would've caught me in the first place if that 'invisibility' potion I bought hadn't been watered down. If I ever see that merchant again..."

One part of me urged me to continue my journey, but my curiosity overpowered that idea. "What were you doing here?" Although not a bandit, this woman was certainly into some sort of skullduggery, and they tend to carry much useful information with them.

The tiefling launched into her story. "Well, I was actually trying to pass the Fort by, make my way farther south..."

I listened patiently as she continued.

"I thought that potion I bought would help - you see, once the local garrison sees me, they tend to want to throw me in a cell or attack me on sight. Of course, the potion wears off right as I cross paths with those thugs from Fort Locke. They were looking for easy bounties, and I showed up right on time."

"I see." Was my reply. Soldiers that lazy are better off out of the army.

She nodded. "It's been that way ever since the new Fort commander posted bounties on bandits - some of his soldiers have been hunting down anyone they find on the road and claiming they're 'bandits.'" A look of disgust crossed her face. "It's just banditry of a different sort - they rob the travelers, and then get the bounty, too. The roads are even _less_ safe now than they were before."

I nodded. "I must take my leave."

"Yeah, I guess you don't have any reason to stay. Look, thanks for saving me... really." She looked a bit sad. Surprisingly emotional for one with the blood of fiends and the profession of cutthroats. She couldn't be very old. I myself am over 650 years of age. I can't remember the exact number.

An eager look suddenly lit up her features. "Do you...do you think I could join you? Just for now! I won't get in the way, I promise." She smiled weakly. "It's just that I don't know how long I can survive on my own, and... well... I do owe you one."

Khelgar had remained silent, but decided it was time to speak up. "Can't say I trust her. Tieflings'll stab you in the back and run off with your purse the moment you drop your guard."

She immediately shot back, "Yeah? Well, dwarves are squat, smelly drunks who'll chop someone in half just to show they're tough!"

"Oh, is that so? Why don't you step down here and say that again!"

I rose to my full height and stared down both of them. "Enough, you two. This is unproductive."

"He started it!" Neeshka cried out.

Khelgar sneered, his whiskers joining his lips in a curled snarl. "Bah. Leave her here. She'll be food for the other _beasts_ on the road soon enough."

I looked at Khelgar. "It would be unwise to refuse her help."

"Hmph. We haven't needed her so far. Still, it's _your_ decision."

Neeshka gave me a winning smile. "Thanks! I won't let you down, I swear. I think those Fort Locke thugs have my gear locked away here."

I looked at the chest. It was weak-looking, unstable. Would probably shatter with one blow. With brisk efficiency, I sheathed my swords, walked over to the chest, got down on my knees, and slammed my fist into the wood. It broke instantly.

Collecting the gear, I handed it to Neeshka. She gaped at me, shocked by the previous display. Khelgar seemed to be more pleased than surprised.

After Neeshka suited up, we continued down the path.

The teifling girl was quick to claim a place at my side. Her fiery gaze stared up at me. "Wow! You're really strong!"

I arched an eyebrow. "Truly?"

"Yeah. I mean, from what I know most elves are kind of…weak. They like to be fast instead of strong. I think that's a good idea. Speed is better than brawn. But brawn seems to work for you. But you're a lot bigger than most elves, so it sort of makes sense that you're so strong. I mean…it just shattered! And you only did it once. How did you get so strong?"

"Training."

"Oh. I should have guessed." She smiled, something she seemed quick to do. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Solafae."

"Just Solafae?"

I was about to answer, but Khelgar cut in. "Solafae Barrindar! And if her sister is half the fighter she is, then I'll believe every tale I've heard. Mage or no."

"Your sister? You mean Ilivarra Barrindar?" Neeshka asked.

"Half-sister." I corrected.

She nodded. To my surprise, she did not press the subject further.

Sometime later, we made it to Fort Locke. Somehow, we ended up searching and finding a missing patrol and commander in a nearby graveyeard. They were being held captive by some strange priest dressed as though he were cloaked in shadows. I did not make much of it. Strange cults form every day. But I shall remember this particular priest.

Later that night, after we had stopped to rest, Neeshka approached me. I do not need much sleep, and I guessed that she is the same way. Khelgar on the other hand, snored away, occasionally muttering something about "comely dwarven lasses."

"So you're Ilivarra Barrindar's little half-sister?" she asked. Her desire to press the subject further was hardly a surprise.

"Older. And yes, we are half-sisters."

"You know, I grew up in Neverwinter. It was my home for a long time." She looked sad as she mentioned her home.

I decided not to comment. It has been over a century since I lost my house, but I bear no attachment. There were other leaders to serve and battles to fight.

The tiefling continued. "I was around during the plague. When everyone started getting scared. When everyone started to panic, and go crazy, and sacrificing everything to the gods. Ironic that it was those false helmites that started the whole mess. Then it all seemed better, and everyone kept talking about Aiden Rydraluin, Ilivarra Barrindar, Arwen Moondream, Tanamtor Barrindar, Nadillium Kilzynge, Attalus Devir, Joe Archer, Earalia Rydraluin, Kelsar Iskhander, Salais Miragean, and Savanna Iskhander. Who knew they'd all go on to save the whole city. Incredible, huh?"

Without waiting for an answer she asked me, "So…why weren't you in Neverwinter? Is the whole hero thing just Ilivarra's?"

'Ilivarra' and 'hero' should never be used in the same sentence.

"I was not present because I was unaware of the changes taking place."

"Wouldn't Nadillium Kilzynge want both his daughters to help out? He seemed like a nice guy. Never met him, but I heard about him. He's a follower of Eilistraee. I heard that they try to help and to get everyone to help."

"Nadillium Kilzynge is not my father."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and began twirling it through her fingers. "So you didn't know about Neverwinter. Are you sure that's the only reason why?"

"Yes."

She frowned at me. "You're kind of tight-lipped. Don't like to talk much?"

"No more than necessary."

"Okay. I can understand that. Some people like to talk. Some don't. You don't. Strong, silent type."

I got the feeling that if I didn't contribute more fully to the conversation, she would start asking me more questions about my family. A subject that I do not enjoy speaking about.

"What about you?" I asked. "Where is your family?"

She blinked. "You really wanna know? No one usually asks, so finding the words is a little hard, trust me. People usually make up the whole story once they spot the demon blood - if they ask at all."

"I'd like to know."

"This is so exciting... wow, where to begin." She jumped right into her story, evidently excited by the attention. "Okay, well, I have _no_ idea who my mom or dad was, uh... I was abandoned... but raised by priests, who tried to convert me, so I went away for a long time."

"Priests?"

"Yeah. But not like you. You don't worship Helm." She put on a mock baritone. "The Watcher, the Vigilant One, Kind to Children."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "Were _they_ a hardheaded bunch. Really up on the discipline, not so much on the caring and forgiveness. But they're priests of Helm, so what are you going to do?"

"Unforgiving?"

"Well, not exactly. We all get into trouble sometimes. Or a lot. And I guess they ran out of 'I forgive yous' at some point. Anyway, so after helping myself to their collection plate after a particularly moving sermon, I decided to see what else I could help myself to." Another smile curled her lips. "But you know, those tales could fill a book, and I don't want to chew your ear off. Maybe some other time."

I nodded. "It's late. You should get some rest."

She seemed genuinely surprised. Perhaps no one ever suggested something that could be taken as concern for her.

"You sure? I could keep watch for awhile, if you want."

"Rest, Neeshka." I commanded.

She rolled her eyes. "You're the boss." With those last words, she rolled over and closed her eyes.

I should put away this journal for now, and focus fully on my watch duties.

**3/11/1388**

I had a dream the previous night. It is a recurring one, where I am barely more than a child. I cut through dozens of practice dummies, each one seeming more alive and real than the last. My mother yells at me in the background. She howls for their blood, screams for my best effort, and bellows threats of extreme punishment if I do not comply with all her orders. At one time, I disobey. I never remember what it is I do, but I always recall her rage. Her lividness at my disobedience. She grabs my arm, her scarlet-painted nails drawing blood. She unhooks the snake whip from her belt and drags me into the other room. I always wake up before I witness my punishment.

I have had this dream since the first night I returned to the prime material plane. But I refuse to dwell upon it. Dreams are dreams. Nothing more.

The dream was hardly the significant part of my day. We encountered a druid named Elanee, who offered to take us through a shorter route to Highcliff. She seems competent enough, and she helped us in another ambush against bladelings. They keep calling me 'Kalach-cha.' I do not know the meaning of that word. It sounds familiar in some way. I am not sure why.

I decided to take her trail. She lead us to a place known as the Maiden's Glade. It was infested with rabid animals, but she seemed genuinely shocked by the reactions, so I knew she had not set a trap for me. If she had, she would be a bleeding corpse by now.

We stumbled upon a wounded bear. Elanee recognized him as one of her fellow druids.

"Kaleil?" That was the only thing she could muster the strength to say.

"I... I... came here, came to try and find you, Elanee, to try and escape the Mere... to seek refuge here..." He stumbled, too wounded to move.

Elanee knelt beside him. "The Mere? What is wrong?"

He laid his large head on the ground. "The Mere, it speaks with different voice now... and its waters, once clear to the Circle, are now dark... and run deep, so deep..."

"What do you mean? Where are the others, the rest of the Circle?" Elanee whispered, fear clear in her voice.

"Vashne and the others... they are lost. Only you remain... I thought I could find you, or Naevan... but what claims the Mere overtook me... clouded my vision with shadows and blood... trapped me in this form..." His dark gaze found her face. "Do not return to the Mere, Elanee... do not, or you shall fall to its corruption as I did."

Elanee stared at his form for some time before speaking. "I... Kaleil, he's... dead. It was he that caused such unrest here... and why the animals attacked us."

"What did he mean when he mentioned the Mere?" I asked, my voice emotionless.

"I don't know. I... I have been away from the Circle for some time..." She looked hesistant. "Kaleil and I are part... were part... of the Circle of Merdelain, the Mere of Dead Men. If the elders, if Vashne is lost... and Naevan is lost..."

"Go on."

Her eyes became distant. "I have been away too long. But this would explain why I could not feel the Circle any longer... and as for the land..."

She shook her head. "But we should press on. I promised to lead you to Highcliff... and to safety, and so far, this path has proved longer than I wished." Taking one final look at the bear, she said gently "Farewell, Kaleil. May you rest... and may the Glade become peaceful again."

3/18/1376

Once we made it to Highcliff, a full week later, we found out that we could not get passage to Neverwinter. Lizardmen had been sinking boats.

We set off to discuss the matter with the town leader, Elder Mayne. In exchange for dealing with the lizard problem, he promised to grant us passage to Neverwinter.

It was too late to start solving the lizardmen problem, but we looked into another matter before turning in for the night. Gera and Zachan—the same people I'd met at the Weeping Willow—had lost her son, Andrew, and implored me to find him and his friend, Alex.

My companions were quick to add their imput.

"Why are we wasting our time looking for two kids? We have more important things to do." An irritated Neeshka replied.

"Then it's a good thing you're not making the decision, isn't it, tiefling?" Khelgar snarked.

"Don't start with me again, dwarf."

"We cannot simply leave these children." Elanee added.

I addressed my companions. "This venture will benefit all of us. Neeshka, you will receive a fair share of the profit. Khelgar, we will likely experience a number of fights in our search. Elanee, you will be able to save the children."

They all nodded, seeing no real counter-argument to something that benefited all three of them.

We soon found the children—scared, shaking, and hiding from a pack of wolves that we had made short work of.

"Andrew? Alex?" I called softly.

The child I assumed was Andrew stepped forward. "Th-th-thanks for helping us, stranger."

My hands glowed with red, healing light. "Are either of you hurt?" I had dealt with a similar experience before.

"N-n-no. You're gonna yell at us now, aren't you?"

I knelt down to be eye-level with them. "No. I won't yell. Why did you two come out here? Your parents are very worried."

Andrew gave me a remorseful look. "It was my fault. Da was tellin' us stories about someone he met in the Mere an' how they fought off a thousand lizardmen and evil dwarves an' stuff." He looked down, ashamed. "It didn't sound all that hard, so Alex and I came out here to look for some so we could fight them too."

I raised my eyebrows. "So in other words, you went tale-chasing?"

"Well, wolves are bigger than evil dwarves right? That's why we were so scared. I bet we could have beat some ol' ratty dwarves. Don't know about lizards, though."

I shook my head. "Your father was just telling stories. No one is able to do what he said."

Khelgar spoke thoughtfully. I don't know, lass. Maybe not a _thousand,_ but we cer-"

Elanee took that moment to kick him in the shin. "Shh!"

"Ow! What was that for?"

Ignoring my quarreling companions, Andrew protested, "But Da said he saw it with his own eyes. An' Alex and me are both old enough to fight too."

I sighed. "A fight broke out, yes. But there were hardly a thousand. And there is no number that will justify worrying your parents like this."

The boy stared at me, realization striking him. "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one that saved Da in the Mere!"

"Even if I was, do I look like I could take on a thousand enemies at once?"

He frowned. "No, I guess not. And you're not as big as Da said you were."

That is the first time anyone has ever said that to me in my entire life.

"No, I'm not. Do you two understand why you shouldn't have been out here? That you shouldn't worry your parents like this?"

"Yes." The answered simultaneously.

"Can you two find your way home?"

"Yes... just don't tell Da we got in trouble, all right? Please?" He gave me a pleading look.

"It's best I tell him the truth. Now get going." I gestured for them to leave, presenting them with a rare smile. "We'll be nearby. Holler if you need any help."

The two of them sped away.

Elanee smiled at me. "You handled that quite well. Have you children of your own?"

I shook my head. "I don't plan to."

Khelgar spoke up. "Bah. On the off-chance I get tired of cracking skulls - I'll need to find a comely dwarven wench and make me a whole clan of Ironfists."

Disgusted, Neeshka covered her ears. "I _really_ don't want to hear this - _especially_ anything about comely dwarven wenches."

"So says the girl with horns and a tail. Don't be judging dwarven women too harshly, what they lack in stature, they make up for in spirit."

Elanee grinned at me. "Well, judging from what I've seen, I believe our noble leader will make an excellent parent."

"It's not going to happen."

"So you say. Although I would not be surprised if one day nature took its course." The druidess teased.

I surveyed the area. "We should be moving on."

A memory came to mind later that night. It was one from several years past, when Ilivarra, Aiden, and her young daughter, Ranxena, came to visit. Ilivarra and Xena had gotten into an argument, so the young girl had run away into the swamps. The resemblance in actions between her and her mother at that age is uncanny.

The four of us—Me, Ilivarra, Aiden, and Daeghun—combed the swamps for that little girl. In the end, I was the one to find the seven-year-old child.

"Xena, what are you doing out here?"

"Mommy yelled at me, Aunt Sol. I was just playing with one of her spell scrolls. She came in and started yelling at me about how much danger I was putting myself in, so I yelled back and ran away. I think she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you." I shook my head and gave her a rare smile. "Silly girl."

She stuck her tongue out at me.

"But she is very worried. And you scared her. You know better than to play with her scrolls. You could be hurt."

"Is she mad?"

"That you ran away? Yes."

"Then I'm not going back."

"If you don't go back, then she's only going to grow more worried, and far angrier. You don't want that, do you?"

"No." She said, not quite sure of herself.

"So go back now. Your mother may be angry, but it always goes away. If you go now, there's still a chance that you'll have the rest of the day to play."

She thought about it silently for some time. In the end, she agreed. "Okay. Thanks, Aunt Sol."

I offered my hand to her. When she stood up, I saw that she was limping. Ignoring her protests that she was fine, I examined her ankle. It was only a slight sprain, easily healed. I mended the wound, but I did not put her down. I carried her in my arms back to the house. By the time we arrived, she was fast asleep, and Ili's anger had disolved.

That was seven years ago. When I think of my young niece now, a strange feeling still emerges. I say strange, because I have never felt in such a way before. I feel as though I approve of her greatly, even if she has done nothing to earn such approval. It is not lust, and stronger than simple liking. I do not have a name for it.

The druidess approached me. She took a seat across the fire from me. "Truly, where did you learn to handle that situation so well?"

"I have two nieces." I replied honestly.

"Oh? Where do they live?"

"One is with her parents. The other is in the grave."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not say that to me. It is my sister that has suffered the loss of a child."

"Ilivarra?"

I saw that Khelgar and Neeshka had been speaking to our newest companion.

"Out of respect for my sister's privacy, I am not going to continue." It was not my place to discuss the personal details of Ilivarra's first life.

"Forgive me. The Mere has spoken of her and her many companions before. I was simply curious."

"You're not the first."

Just as I was about to change the subject, Elanee said, "Our companion, Khelgar, mentioned West Harbor to me. I heard what happened there... to your friends, the other villagers. The attack by those creatures that forced you to leave."

I met her gaze squarely. "It is pointless to dwell on loss."

"Still, to leave your home. I sometimes forget the attachments one can put to a place." She looked distant. "With my kind, especially those that listen to nature, there is no _one_ place that we call home - everywhere we go throughout the land is comforting, with its own sounds and life."

"Sounds like you're not one to tie yourself down."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. The Mere drew me more than any other place, so I did not travel much beyond its edges. We deal with few outside of our own Circle, I have not seen my own kind in many years, and I spoke with the Circle only rarely."

She shook her head. "But surely we were not here to discuss how I feel about things. Was there something you needed now that we have stopped for the night?"

"No. Get some sleep, Elanee. Prepare for tomorrow's dealings with the lizardmen."

"Very well." She walked away.

The campfire began to dim. My companion's faces reflected their dreams. Neeshka was smiling mischeviously, no doubt stealing something from some rich man's purse. Khelgar continues to keep company with his comely dwarven lass.

Elanee, however, held a face of great pain and whispers things in a foreign language. Until I heard the name, "Kaleil" I did not realize she was dreaming of her decreased brethren. I ignored her, but it grew persistently worse. I wasn't sure what to do. I remembered once seeing a mother whispering to her child and smoothing back her daughter's hair. (No doubt you know who the mother was. How she keeps finding her way into my journal is beyond me.)

I crouched beside Elanee. Gingerly, I brushed a calloused hand across her forehead, smoothing back her brown locks. She calmed almost instantly, settling into deep slumber.

I doubt I'll ever understand why that worked.


	4. Part IV

Mordecay: Thank you! I'm glad you like it.

**4/1/1388**

For the past several days, we have sailed upon this boat. This wretched, cursed—

**4/2/1388**

My apologies for leaving so abruptly. Another bout of seasickness struck me, and I was forced to deal with it.

"I hate the sea and everything in it." I muttered, as I heaved what remained of my lunch into the watery depths.

"Including your stomach contents?" Elanee teased.

I gave her the dirtiest look I could muster. She just chuckled. "You do have a point," she admitted, her face becoming serious. "This water feels…unnatural."

She looked over the railing into the seemingly bottomless ocean. "It is too deep. Too different from the Mere's waters."

"Bah." Khelgar spat, walking past us. "The only thing wrong with this ocean is this blasted thing you call a ship! It rocks like--" His face suddenly turned green. He ran towards the railing, but could not reach over it. I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and lifted him until he could spill his guts into the water.

His was pale as I set him down. "Damned boat," was all he could mutter before walking away.

Neeshka watched the display with great irritation. I could tell by the agitated twitching of her tail that she was growing tired of our companion's complaining. "Hey Solafae, how much longer until we--"

Another round of my vomit fell overboard.

"Nevermind." Neeshka sighed.

Later that night, I sat down to rest. My stomach had finally settled. I intended to take advantage of the moment. I wasn't sleepy, but I was tired.

Khelgar sat across from me. "Don't like the ocean. The tree worshiper is right about it. It's unnatural."

"What makes you say that?" I asked.

"You can fight an orc, a human, a troll, but you can't fight this damned water. It makes you sick, and there's nothin' you can do!" He slammed his fist into his palm. "If I could, I'd send this ocean running back to it's mother!"

"Why are you so eager to fight?" I asked.

"Eager to fight? Well, I suppose I am, if you can call it that - I mean, it's all in good fun."

"Of course."

"Some take pride in craftsmanship, or in hunting, or in haggling for the best price on a blade or other piece of steel. Me? Talking with my fists is my art form." He grinned. "Every tavern's an opportunity, I say. There's usually someone who can take a few punches to the gut and groin before they start weeping like a child."

"But what's the point?" Khelgar is an excellent fighter, but he often fights senselessly. Why would he do such a thing?

"Well, I don't know. I enjoy it, I guess. It's a mark of pride to be able to stand tall, and take every punch, then give it right back until I'm the only one standing."

"Is that usually how it turns out?"

"Most of the time. Only beaten really bad once, but I learned from it, and I'm determined not to let it happen again." He smiled, his eyes getting a little twinkle. "Thing is, I'm glad it happened. It was my destiny."

From what I knew of Khelgar, he would not say such a thing lightly. "Why do you say that?"

He struggled for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to tell me. "I suppose I can tell you. You're a fighter too, so you'll appreciate this. You see, I used to win. Almost undefeated."

"Unsurprising." I meant it. Khelgar is an excellent fighter.

He beamed with pride, flattered by the compliment.

Soon, he returned to his story. "But there was this time in a tavern far from here that I chose a fight that ended up choosing me." He sighed a little dreamily. "It was fate, I tell you."

"How so?"

"Well, it wasn't much of a fight.' He launched into a story. "You see, there were these skinny robed humans, barely twigs, that were sitting at the bar when one of our... 'competitions' broke out."

"Competitions?"

"Fights. There were chairs getting smashed, people screaming, tankards being used as clubs." He sighed happily. "Glorious."

"I don't understand the problem."

He scowled. "Well, everyone was having a good time when I noticed those skinny humans were just sitting there, not even having the decency to pay attention, just nursing waters." A disgusted expression formed. "Waters."

"I see."

"So I asked them, well, shouted really, what in the hells they thought they were doing, ignoring the fine entertainment and then insulting the establishment by not having ale."

"What did they do?"

"Well, they ignored me first. And maybe I shoved one of them a bit. Or tried to break a chair over their skulls, since they were making a point of pretending they didn't hear me. Rude, I tell you."

"How did they respond?"

He gave me a sheepish look. "Uh, well, they used me as a bar rag, first. And not a single punch I threw even hit them, they were moving too fast. And plus, I think I was seeing double. Or triple."

They had to be monks. My younger brother fought in a similar manner when unarmed. He was equally deadly with a great sword. I made sure of that.

Khelgar continued his story. "After they smashed my face into the bar a few times, they showed me the floor up close - the floor was pretty dirty by that point, by the way - then, as the final blow, they sent me flying like a drunk hippogriff out the window." Another happy sigh escaped his lips. "Magical, it was."

"I see." Was my dry reply.

"So after I woke up and wiped the blood out of my eyes - and finally found all my teeth - I went back in and thanked them. Best beating I've ever received."

"How did they react?"

"They seemed a little taken aback by my friendliness, and it turns out they were part of some order, Sun something or other, and get this - they'd devoted their lives to fighting with their fists."

Definitely monks.

The dwarf's eyes shined with awe. "Can you imagine? Lifetime devotion to brawling. It's their lives, their craft."

"Monks."

"They're monks, aye. Crazy water-drinking fools. Hmmmph. Hope drinking water isn't what makes them fight like that."

"It's not."

"You know a monk, lass?"

"One or two."

He nodded. "Anyway, that life sounded like destiny to me. I mean, those skinny excuses for humans were good, and they spent their whole lives kicking the hell out of others. Training for it."

He looked me dead in the eye. "That's when I knew _that's_ what I wanted to do with my life. My purpose was clear."

Khelgar looked up at me. "But what about you? You're one of the few elves that don't mind getting your hands dirty in a fight. You fight with your fists, and your blades. You fight well enough that even the meanest of the clans would respect you. Who taught you to fight like that?"

"My mother."

"I didn't know that foster father of yours had a wife. From what I've heard, he sounds like the quiet type. Not too interested in a woman."

"I speak of my biological mother. Not my foster." I only knew my foster mother briefly. She was the one who implored me to seek out and save her friend in the battle of West Harbor nearly a decade ago.

"A skinny elf like you?! Well, you're not as skinny as most elves, but where did she learn to fight like that?"

"She had many secrets. Where she learned to fight was one of them."

"So she taught you? Why?"

"She wanted a warrior to add to her army."

"What was your mother exactly? Where did she get a whole army?"

"She was the matron. Our clan leader you could say. She assembled her army over her lifetime."

"What happened to her?"

"She died in battle."

"I'm sorry, lass."

"Don't be." I hold no affection for my mother. I never have, and I never will.

"Who killed her?"

"Another matron." This was an evasive answer. She was killed by Matron Sinvyl the first time, but Ilivarra killed her for the second time. Khelgar does not need to know of my sister's matricide.

"I hope you didn't let her get away with it. Killin' a lass's mother deserves a hell of a beating."

"I didn't." Another evasive answer. I died in the fight, but when my sister summoned me a century later, I did much to defeat Matron Sinvyl. Even if it was my sister, her lover, and her friends that destroyed her.

He nodded. "You should get some rest, lass. We've got another day on this cursed boat to handle."

I nodded. "You are correct"

I now put my journal away to follow his advice.

**4/3/1388**

A dream came to me tonight. I do not dream often, but this dream is not uncommon.

I stand in the temple of Lolth of my household. Matron Sinvyl's forces spill in from all corners. She knows our defenses well—too well. There is a traitor in our midst.

Thoughts of treachery can wait. My mother screams orders, and I work to follow them. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Ilivarra. She darts through the forces with the agility of a feline. Her expression is desperate, and her eyes are locked on a struggling man tied to Lolth's altar. Her bardic love. Corran.

I ignore her. I fight, but my mother is subdued by Matron Sinvyl. How could she take care of someone so powerful with such ease? My mother is disarmed, and a rope is tied around her neck. She struggles, but her efforts are futile. Matron Sinvyl hangs the rope herself, and my mother is left to strangle from the ceiling.

My blood boils. How dare Matron Sinvyl dishonor my house and my matron in such a way. I keep a cool head, but I still rush for Matron Sinvyl.

I catch sight of Ilivarra again. She has freed Corran, but has not joined the fight. I am surprised. Ilivarra is no coward. She is brave to the point of folly, yet she runs from the largest threat ever to invade our house. She and her lover escape through a portal, and I am left only to wonder about her cowardice. What could change Ilivarra's nature in such manner? Some elements of her specific bravery were still present. She did not seem to care what happened to her, but she seemed terrified that something would happen to her bard, or to the tiny life growing in her abdomen. So, she runs. Why? Why would she do such a thing?

I approach Matron Sinvyl. She smiles cruelly and engages me in combat. I am the better fighter, yet she overpowers me. How? Questions flood my mind, and concentration becomes difficult.

Suddenly, she slashes my blade at the hilt. I am stunned at the broken pieces of Hell's Fury, but I am left little time to process as matron Sinvyl's blade runs me through.

My world starts to darken. I look over at my mother, knowing that without one of the daughters to take up her staff and mantle with the course of five minutes, every living creature within a mile radius will die. But the house will not collapse. I see the bodies of my eight remaining siblings lying on the floor. Only one remains alive, and it is because she ran from the fight. Ilivarra is Matron now. I am enveloped in darkness.

I awoke with a start. Neeshka's flame eyes stared back at me.

"Hey, Solafae, are you okay? You were muttering stuff in your sleep." Her face became curious. "Who's Sinvyl?"

"She is nothing more than a nightmare. I am alright. Thank you for your concern." I tipped my head in gracious acknowledgement.

"No problem." She smiled. "Sorry I woke you up, but you know, the tree worshiper or the dwarf would have done it anyway. Probably wanted to complain some more."

"You don't like them?"

"Well, the dwarf needs to watch his tongue, or it's going to run right out of his mouth and get _stepped_ on. I mean, you did me a good turn, all _I_ want to do is help out, and he's yelling at me like some old mule." She sighed. "I know he's short and it's rough being in the "big people's" world, but he needs to stop being all defensive - especially for someone so small."

"He just needs a little more time to get used to you." I suggested.

"Story of my life. You'd be surprised how much you hear that when you're about to be burned at the stake or run out of the local hamlet."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not _you_. You're a drow, so you must know something about that."

She's right. It took a long time for the people of my village to get used to me. It does not matter if they liked me or not. I can live with the scorn of my race, but it seems that Neeshka is still learning to accept her differences. She will learn eventually, or she will die. It is a simple fact of the world.

"The tree-hugger probably doesn't know anything about that. She looks perfectly normal, except for her hair. If she just combed the twigs, she'd fit in just fine." The tiefling sneered. "And she complains about not fitting in with the world outside her Mere."

"What do you think of Elanee?"

"The tree-worshipper? What about her?" Neeshka shrugged. "If you're asking if she has any money or valuables, then no, I already checked."

"I was more interested in what you thought of her in general."

"I don't know. She's got pointy-ears but doesn't smell of the Lower Planes, so she's probably not a tiefling." Her tone was clearly mocking. "And she's too tall to be a halfling - and too thin. Plus, she hangs out with animals, so she's an elf." She shrugged again. "What do you expect me to say? She's one of those nature priests, worship trees and the land, don't like cities, so don't have much traffic with her kind."

"Smell of the lower planes?"

"Yeah. Usually people with fiend's blood have sort of a smell. Sometimes it's strong enough that even regular humans can pick it up, and sometimes it's faint. Yours is faint."

I kept my face carefully straight. "What makes you think that I have fiend's blood?" This was an avenue of conversation that could turn ugly, but my swords were well within reach.

"You don't have to be all evasive about it, Solafae. The smells too faint for me to tell how many generations, but it's there. You're devil-blooded, aren't you? The smell's just as shadowy as the baatezu, but it's there." Her expression clearly said, 'Don't try to lie to me.'

"I think my smell speaks for itself."

She smiled. "I understand. You have enough trouble when you look like a drow. Don't need to add a devil to the mix."

That certainly saves me a lot of potential explanation.

"Thank you, Neeshka."

Neeshka grinned. "No problem, Solafae. And thanks for not trying to lie to me about it."

She walked off, and I intend to go back to sleep.

**4/4/1388**

The moment I woke up, the sounds of an argument reached my ears.

"Well I say you're a miserable excuse for half-devil, goat-headed beast!"

"Yeah? Well I've seen footstools that are taller than you!"

Khelgar's fists were clenched, and Neeshka's tail was moving in a deadly manner.

I was quick to become between them. "What's this all about?"

"She took my axe!"

"I did not! Just because I'm a thief you automatically assume I took it!"

"Nah, I think you took it because you're a no-good, rotten--"

"That's enough." I said firmly.

Khelgar fell silent.

"Now," I began, "Where did you see it last, Khelgar?"

"By my bed, where it always is."

I walked over to his bed and knelt down. Sure enough, the axe had been knocked under the bed. Khelgar probably pushed it by accident when he got up to deal with his sea-sickness the previous night.

"She probably hid it underneath while we weren't looking."

"Khelgar, Neeshka, I will not tell each of you how to behave. You're both adults, and are entitled to your opinions. However, if you two must argue you will do it calmly and rationally like adults. If you cannot settle the argument, then you are to come to me and I will settle it fairly. But you two are not to brawl over matters such as these. I will not tolerate either of you brawling with your allies. It benefits no one, and only makes us ripe for the killing blow from our enemies. If you two come to blows, you must deal with me. And seeing as I am the only cleric present, I would strongly recommend you follow my orders and avoid any actions that would make me think twice about healing you both. Do I make myself clear?"

They nodded.

"Good." Normally, I would have made them shake hands on the matter, but it would not help to damage their pride further.

"I will leave you both to your own devices." I said, leaving.

I thought of getting some breakfast, but decided against it. Just looking at the lull of the waves made me queasy.

Elanee smiled, leaning on the railing. "You handled that well."

I shrugged. "I suppose so."

"You have done this before?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

I was not sure I wished to tell her about my military history, so I decided on a more neutral answer. "I am the oldest of eleven."

The druidess lifted her brows. "Nature has certainly blessed your mother."

There was nothing natural in her fertility. I know it, my sisters knew it, and every female in our previous generations knew it.

"That's open to interpretation."

"You sound a little bitter. Did you not love your siblings? Your father?"

I bear no affection for my siblings. My father, I never knew. I had dozens of steppatrons. As my sister Adintal would say, "Guliara went through consorts like she did tampons."

"Love is an abstract concept in my society."

"Ever evasive. Talking to you is like pulling a thorn out of a beaver's tail, do you know that?"

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Only those that lived with me with the Mere."

"Tell me about the Mere of the Deadmen. You seem to know much about it."

"Do you think this is the first lifetime I have spent in the mists of Merdelain?" She gave me a teasing grin before starting her tale. "My life in the Mere dates back several lifetimes... many of my ancestors lie beneath its waters. And my ancestors were there when Medelain gained its human name, before there were even such tiny settlements as West Harbor and Red Fallow's Watch."

"Red Fallow's Watch?"

"The name means nothing to you, does it? Of course not - the Mere claimed it over fifty years ago in its slow march across the land. And before that was the event where it gained its human name."

"Its human name?"

"My people once called the Mere, _Merdelain,_ the "Slow Tide" or "Slow Marching Court" in the times before the wars of men gave it a new name, before humans settled on it shores." Her eyes were distant as she spoke. "And those settlements are mostly gone now, their manors and castles now ruins desperately reaching their hands above the water. It is for all who dwell within cities, that the land will take again what was taken from it - whether cut stone, carved wood, or fields sliced by the plow."

"You said this wasn't your first lifetime in the Mere of Dead Men." Such discussion of ruin was bringing back too many memories of my final battle for my household. Too many questions.

"No, for my father perished there in the fog, slain by orc soldiers from the mountains. It is his life that I speak of when I say 'lifetimes.'"

She appeared sad. "On the year the swamp gained its new name, there was a great battle fought miles within its borders. Orcs, spilling from the mountains, drove humans, dwarves, and my people into the swamps where they were surrounded - and cut down in the fog, trapped in mud where the footing of the orcs proved truer. But there were no need for graves, their corpses were all embraced and dragged down, and what dead lay upon the surface were taken by the others who dwelled in the swamp. And so, even in the fog, the ghosts still whisper and weep of lost Merdelain, the song taken up by countless elven widows that cry across its shores. And always, the mere seeks more dead to draw them down into its waters, down amongst the dead ones."

She still sounded sad, but not regretful or grieving. Those emotions lead to nothing. Dwelling on loss is useless.

"What happened then?"

"I was orphaned from that battle - when the first of the Circle found me, wailing in the mist, in those very ruins you traveled to outside of West Harbor. They gathered me up, and I made no sound, and they took me into the heart of the mere, to show me its secret ways. And there was always much to learn."

She sighed. "In time, though I knew only some of its ways, I became accepted into the Circle - and accepted by the Mere as well. It was only the last test that I failed."

"What test?"

She seemed to become defensive. "Perhaps we shall speak of it another time, but not now."

I looked out into the water. A strange assortment of bubbles seemed to rise near the boat. Too close.

A cold feeling trickled down my spine. Something was not right.

Without warning, a bladeling shot out of the water.

"The Kalach-cha!" He screeched, digging his long talons into the side of the boat and climbing up.

I balled my hand into a fist and punched him right in the face. He fell back into the water, his skull cracking like an egg. I told you I'm stronger than I look.

Elanee was chanting spells as more bladelings appeared. Neeshka and Khelgar had grabbed their weapons and were dispatching the creatures. I spoke a command word, my hands glowing with red light. The pieces of Hell's Fury instantly appeared in my hands, and I decapitated an approaching bladeling.

Once the final bladeling was slain, a githyanki rose above the water, propelled by her magic.

"You will answer for your crimes, Kalach-Cha!" she cried, attacking me.

While a good cleric, she was no match for me in combat. I took care of her with a stab in the guts. When she fell, I searched her corpse for clues, only to find none.

"What exactly did you do to make a bunch of religious zealots like the githyanki mad at you?" Neeshka asked, going to search the bodies of the bladelings.

I frowned. "I don't know, Neeshka."

"Maybe your sister did something to piss them off." She suggested.

I chuckled. "Perhaps."

My companions stared at me, astounded.

"What is it?" My tone was suspicious.

"You actually _laughed._ Lass, you _never_ laugh." Khelgar stated.

I blinked, not sure how to respond to that. However, I quickly regained my composure. "Be that as it may, we have work to do. Once we get to land, we must learn more about the nature of these creatures, and what they intend to do with us."

Not waiting for them to respond, or to make another comment about my laugh, I returned below deck.

**4/9/1388**

"So this is Neverwinter? Suppose it's passable - for a city built by humans." Khelgar said several days later. "Can't say I care for it, though. You want a proper city, you build down, not up."

Elanee shifted uncomfortably. "This place feels... unnatural, the wood and stone, it's as if they've been silenced."

"I wish you'd _both_ be silent. The entire trip was just one long whine from the two of you." Neeshka spat.

The tiefling put on a deep, dwarvish imitation of Khelgar. "Oh, me stomach feels funny. This boat rocks like a baby's cradle."

It was followed by a high-pitched mockery of Elanee. "This water is so unnatural and deep, not like the swamp of dead people I grew up in."

Elanee and Khelgar glared, not wanting to speak so as to add oil to the fire.

"Not that _I've_ got great memories of this place, but it's home." She addressed me. "So - where are we going first, Solafae?"

"The inn."

Khelgar grunted. "Not sure I can stomach any food yet. A stiff drink and a good tavern brawl, on the other hand..." He shrugged. "I say lead the way. Besides, I'd welcome a _stable_ bed after being trapped on that filthy excuse for a boat."

We soon found the inn, and my foster uncle, but that is a tale for another time.


	5. Part V

**4/11/1388**

After leaving the boat, we soon found the inn. Neeshka seemed right at home when we entered the door. Khelgar still appeared to be disgruntled by the boat ride, but slowly recovering. Elanee looked like a deer out of the woods, so to speak. It did not matter. My companions are strong, and they would adapt.

I scanned the inn for a few minutes. I couldn't figure out who could be my foster uncle, so I decided to ask someone. My gaze fell upon a man sitting in the corner.

The man was clad in dark clothes, stroking an unstrung bow in his hands. A ranger, I guessed. His golden eyes surveyed the room like the gaze of a predatory wolf. Most people would be put off by such eyes, but I was not afraid of him.

I approached the man. "Excuse me, but do you know--"

His golden eyes flashed and he spoke in a gruff, snide voice. "If I wanted a wench, I'd go to a brothel."

For the first time in many years, my temper began to stir. I used to have a terrible temper, before I learned to control it, and I had always succeeded for over 600 years. Yet now, that male—one male, was testing it, and prodding it to life.

"If I wanted a male, I'd find better pickings than you in a slaughterhouse." I spat back at him. I could feel him smirking at me as I turned away, but I would not let it bother me. It was one slip up in anger, and it would not happen again.

A large half-orc moved away from the bar, and I spotted someone I had missed before. He was a brown-haired man of both human and elven descent. Daeghun's half-brother.

Before I could speak, he grinned at me and started talking. "Well, now, what can I do for you? Bit of venom for the belly, perhaps? Or maybe a tankard or two to shave the edge off your day?"

"Man after my own heart. Bring some over here!" Khelgar shouted boisterously.

After the man complied, I addressed him again, "I'm looking for Duncan."

"Duncan... that sounds a bit familiar. If you're here to collect on some debt, I'll tell you that Duncan's a drunk fool without two coppers to his name."

"Tell him that Daeghun sent me." I was not in the mood for games, but I would play his if it provided me with answers.

"Daeghun, eh? So the time's come, has it? Troubles chasing on your heels, and you barely know why..." He chuckled slightly. "Suppose Daeghun told you less than half of what you need to know, then sent you packing. Don't take it hard, done it to me twice in my life, all for good reason."

He knows Daeghun well.

"I can probably guess why you're here, but why don't you go ahead and tell me anyway." Duncan finished.

Slowly, I removed the shard from my pack. I did not need any unwelcome surprises because of the item. "I suppose you know what this is?"

He frowned. "_Trace_ of an enchantment on it is what that eel Sand said, but nothing of importance. Probably residue from demon's fire, or maybe wizard magic."

The bartender looked up. "'Demon's fire?' Sounds important to me."

"And that, Sal, is why you are cleaning tables, and I _own_ this place." Duncan snapped. "Those shards were magic, yes, a 'trace,' but again, it was Sand, and he's a fool." He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Anyway, barely worth mentioning - more sentimental value than anything else. That really why you came all this way, to hear about the battle of West Harbor?"

"What would I need to know about it?" I asked carefully. I was there at that battle. If there was something I did not know, he would not have brought it up.

"Er…nothing. Besides, it's not my place to tell you about that. It's Daeghun's."

"Very well." He was holding back something from me, but now was not the time to confront him. It would come later. "I disagree with your beliefs concerning the shard. This one is definitely magic."

"You brought it here... dug it up from those ruins? Now why in the Nine Hells would you go digging up the past like that?" With an angry wave of his hand, he chided, "Look - and listen. There's no good in picking up history's bones, especially where that warlock's concerned. I heard the tales, and Daeghun told me what happened at West Harbor that night."

Still not the right time.

"Who's Sand?" Changing the subject was in my best interests.

He started to speak of Sand, and from what I could gather, Sand was a hedge wizard, used to live in the Merchant's district, investigated the shards with Daeghun and Duncan years before only to find nothing, and grated upon Duncan's nerves.

"Summon him. We may find something he missed last time." I suggested.

He shrugged. "Well, it's worth a shot - but don't pay him any coin in advance, that's all I'll say. In fact, that viper would be best o-"

"Ah... it seems I have arrived just in time to deflect the usual barrage of slander from the local innkeeper."

I looked at the speaker of that phrase. The speaker was a short, elven man with black hair and blue eyes, and wearing a wizard's garbs.

He gave Duncan a sarcastic smile, which Duncan returned with a scowl. "Sand."

"Yes, it is good to see you're still sober enough to recognize me, Duncan - past the stale beer, vinegar, faint sweat, failed aspirations, unwashed tunic... I thought perhaps you had already had one tankard too many for the day. But..."

He caught sight of me. "Why, an interesting guess you're entertaining. A drow no less." The elf looked amused. "I thought Duncan was keeping company too good for him, now I see I was right. Duncan, you could learn a few things from your guest."

"Still passing off those two-copper fair weather charms to the locals, Sand?" Duncan grunted.

Sand gave him a disdainful look. "You have no appreciation for my talents - and after all I've done for you." He smirked. "To think you could survive a fortnight without my ale purgative - why, you would be buried in the tombs with the rest of the Neverwinter traitors - a betrayer of barkeepers _everywhere._"

Duncan glared.

"But enough about you and your "adventurous" exploits on the tavern floor. I heard my name mentioned, and oddly enough, almost in a tone that suggested I could help."

Duncan gestured to me. "Kin."

"I'm not really seeing the family resemblance." Sand replied dryly.

And here I thought it was blaringly obvious.

"...and we need your help concerning the shard. Both of them." Duncan finished.

"Shard? That chunk of _silver_ you showed me so long ago? I do hope you're not going to try to pawn it to me again, I am no longer interested." His cool gaze locked with Duncan's darkened. "Besides, as I _recall_ you said the piece of junk had sentimental value, which, upon viewing your establishment, is perfectly understandable." The wizard arched an eyebrow. "Besides, didn't your Uncle or Cousin or Brother or whatever make off with the other shard? I thought you only had one now."

Duncan narrowed his eyes. "It found its way back - so to speak. We need you to look at both of them again. Properly, this time."

"Oh, very well, give them here and let me see what my keen arcane senses can determine." The wizard's brows furrowed in concentration. I braced myself, preparing for what was bound to happen next. A moment later, we were all thrown back by a blast of magic.

I stood up, catching sight of those gold eyes again. The ranger was laughing at me. Bastard.

Sand stood up, dusting himself off. "Well... it seems to have some... resentment to being scryed. That is quite different than last time." The elf addressed Duncan. "Are you sure these are the same shards? The power in them... why, it's definitely stronger than last time... much stronger."

"Oh, so _now_ they're magical? I'm not paying you for _two_ failed divinations, you charlatan." Duncan snapped.

"It's not a _matter_ of divination, you one-tankard drunk. There is something about these shards - without knowing their history, even my considerable talents cannot unlock their mysteries."

"Both of you stop it." I said firmly. "The matter at hand needs to be tended to. We don't have time to bicker."

Duncan conceded. "You're right. Sorry I pointed out the fact you were a charlatan, Sand."

"And I didn't mean to bring up your excessive drinking, Duncan, and your long list of failed aspirations. It was uncalled for, especially when the mystery of these shards is before us."

Sand looked thoughtful. "Taking them to any other wizard in town would be useless until we learn more about their past... you need a sage and you need them examined quickly, so..."

"Then who should we speak to?" I asked.

"You could _try_ and speak to AL-de-nonAldanon... but I don't think you'd have much luck reaching him, the Blacklake District is closed down."

He explained himself. "Aldanon lives in the Blacklake District, you see - and now he's trapped there. The Watch has it locked tight, no one going in or out, no messages in or out, even for the nobles that used to live there... quite cryptic, really"

More hoops to jump through, it seems.

"I heard about that" Duncan cut in. "Lord Dalren was killed, wasn't he? I've heard rumors, but no official word of what happened."

"As have I." Sand admitted. "Not only are the Watch not talking about it, but they even called in the Cloaktower mages to investigate... which means sorcery - or demons - were at work."

Duncan scoffed. "Demons? Closest I've ever come to demons is Daeghun's tales about the battles down south, near West Harbor... when there was that trouble with the King of Shadows."

Still not taking the bait.

"How do I get in?"

The elf sighed. "Well, if you're not a member of the Watch... or know a secret route into Blacklake, then you're out of luck." He plunged ahead. "So it seems like you have no choice but to let me examine the shards at my leisure. I'll need to hold on to them, of course..."

I leveled my cold, devil's gaze at him, the shards gripped tightly in my fists.

"Or not." The wizard lamented.

"Wait... Watch or secret route... not bad ideas, either way the coin lands." Duncan put in.

"Go on." I prompted.

"Well, there's Marshal Cormick, he's currently at the City Watch Post, and I know he's in bad need of an extra swordarm down at the Docks."

"And how could he assist me?"

"He might be able to take you into the Watch, and from there, speaking to Aldanon shouldn't be too hard."

A snort came from the wizard.. "Oh, _there's_ an idea, Duncan. They probably were behind the Watch closing the Blacklake District in the first place."

"Where can I find some of her men?" Find the men, find the leader.

"There's Caleb. He used to try to get me to pay him gold for protection before I told him about the wards I had inscribed on the building that caged the guardian elementals." He shrugged. "Long story, but quick resolution."

Duncan frowned. "Caleb... maybe, but I don't trust that harbor rat to give you a fair deal - and the price'll be steep, in bodies or coin - he doesn't like being the only one with blood on his hands."

"Doesn't sound like someone we should put our faith in." Khelgar grunted.

Neeshka shook her head. "Obviously, you've never dealt with the Watch in Neverwinter, Khelgar. Dealing with Caleb is probably our best chance."

Sand cut in. "Still, the chances are simply talking to Caleb will make you want to kill him, so it seems a clear win - to me. If you do speak to him, though, be sure to do it downwind."

"So my options are either thieves or guards?" I responded.

"That's pretty much how it stands."

"I'll think about it."

"There's rooms upstairs for you and your friends. I'll get you the keys, and I'll mark the spots on the map." Duncan marked the locations of both men on my map, and I headed upstairs to my room.

**4/12/1388**

I have chosen the thieves path for several reasons. The first is location. There are always too many guards in the noble district of a city and never enough thieves. The Watch would not send me there for a _long_ time. The second is that thieves tend to infiltrate a place far faster than guards do, and since time is of the essence, I need the quick path. The third is my heritage. They will hardly trust a drow in the watch, despite my family name. They will not trust me near Castle Never, whereas the thieves would be glad to manipulate the reputation of the dark elves to their advantage.

I explained my decision to group members, and I informed them that I would be taking Neeshka alone. Elanee accepted my decision after some convincing, but Kelghar looked uneasy.

"Speak, Khelgar." I commanded. "I'll not leave you in unease while I'm away."

He looked up at me, his eyes hard. "Do you _really_ want to work for those lowlifes, Solafae?"

"If it were up to me, I would not be working for the Watch or the thieves." I replied.

He nodded. "Fair enough." Niether he nor Elanee looked happy about my decision, but they had accepted it, which was the important part. Always pleasing my troops is a fool's errand.

We left establishment and headed for Caleb's. As we walked, Neeshka grinned at me. "This is the way it should be. Too wayward fiends running around Neverwinter getting into all sorts of scuffles and shenanigans."

"We're going to avoid scuffles and shenanigans if we can." I said firmly.

"Hmph. You're no fun, Sol." Neeshka stuck her tongue out at me.

I responded with a roll of my eyes, but something was on my mind. Sol. I thought only some members of my family called me that.

We approached Caleb right as he was telling some story to his friends.

"...so the Watchman's so scared of me he turns and walks away." He smiled, savoring the moment. "You should have seen the look on that merchant's face when he realized he wasn't getting any help."

One of the goons guffawed. "I tell you, Caleb... we own this place. The Watch are either cowards - or greedy cowards, willing to run at the drop of a coin."

If what they say is true, then there wouldn't have been much difference in company if I had joined the watch instead.

Caleb caught sight of me and sneered. "You looking for trouble? Maybe you better walk out of here before we break your legs."

"I was told you could get me into the Blacklake District."

He sneered at me. "Yeah? Well you were told wrong. Now get out."

Before he could blink, my hand was around his neck and he was suspended two feet off the ground.

"Tell me what I want to know or you'll be the ones with broken legs." I promised. "And I'll throw in a broken neck just for the trouble."

I dropped him to the ground. "Talk."

He stood up, slowly regaining his composure and his attitude. "I _do_ know some people - important people. I can't just show you the way to them though. They don't like strangers." He scowled. "And it's not like getting you into Blacklake would be easy. With that murdered nobleman, and those rumors flying around about demons, it'll take more than just a simple bribe to get you in."

He smiled cunningly. "So if you want my help, then you need to earn some trust... my trust. You looking for work?"

It seems there _is_ something sitting inside that thick skull of his.

"What do you want? Make it quick." Thugs won't respect you unless you prove you're just as tough as they are.

He informed me of a merchant named Hagen. My job was to get protection money and break his legs in the process. We'll see. I will break the man's legs only if necessary. Doing so if I can convince him to cooperate through verbal means.

"….And don't try to steal from me. I've got connections - cross me, and I'll find you." He warned.

"You cross me, they'll find you with a lot more than just a sack of money missing." I said darkly and left the area.

Neeshka grinned at me as we headed for the shop. "Next time someone owes me money, I'm taking _you_ along."

"I look forward to it."

We were able to deal with the merchant peacefully. Caleb was upset that we didn't break the man's legs—which only deepened when the watch came after us—but still gave us a name. Moire. I was unsurprised that he directed me to her. A petty thug like him wouldn't have access to Blacklake.

We began our walk to Moire's, but we were stopped along the way. Another group of thugs, but not belonging to the docks.

The leader addressed Neeshka. "Coming back to the city was a mistake, Neeshka. You didn't think you'd slip in unnoticed, did you?"

The tiefling steadied herself, preparing for a fight. "No, I'm just surprised it took you _this_ long to notice. So who's wasting their money on you this time, Bennon?"

Not waiting for his reply, I unsheathed both my swords. "If you lay a hand on her, I'll cut it off."

Neeshka was under my protection and my leadership. I would not allow her to be harmed in such a manner.

Neeshka's eyes lit up, realizing that I was going to help her indefinitely. "That's right, Bennon - you... you think I'd come back without some muscle on my side? Well... you thought wrong." She narrowed her eyes. "And I'm still waiting for an answer. You're too stupid to come here on your own, so who sent you?"

"Leldon's still got a bounty out on you, goat-girl. He's even upped the price for those horns."

I leveled my cold gaze at the man. "Walk away. This is the only opportunity you'll receive."

Neeshka smiled darkly. "So what'll it be then, Bennon? Run now, or let me remove that empty head from your neck?"

"Brave talk, girl, but your luck's run out. I'm going to send you back to the Nine Hells where your kind belongs."

Her smile never left. "Hey, home is where the heart is... and I'm staying right here in Neverwinter."

The battle began. I removed the head of one of the goons, and sent it flying into the face of another. While he was distracted, I split his torso from his legs. Neeshka had dispatched the other goons. Only Bennon remained.

I engaged him in combat. Waiting. Stalling. Once all his attention was focused on me, Neeshka snuck up from behind and stabbed him in the back. He fell instantly, but I ran my blade through his face just to be sure.

Neeshka seemed almost giddy from the slaughter we caused. "Heh. Looks like Leldon's in for more disappointment. That was fun!"

I gave her a skeptical look. "Fun? Someone wants you dead."

"Yeah, but we're still standing and they're not. Great, isn't it? I wonder how much the bounty is for me now..." She still looked starry-eyed.

"Why are you being hunted?"

"Eh, Leldon still can't admit that he's the second best thief in Neverwinter. He's taken things a little too personally, if you ask me."

I raised my brows at her. "And that's it?"

She seemed a bit reluctant to speak. "Well... Leldon and I pulled a job about a year ago... big haul, too." She grinned "You should have been there. I was brilliant."

Not really my thing. Sorry, Neeshka.

"So we get back to our hideout and start to divide up the loot and _that's_ when ol' Leldon demands a bigger share."

"You didn't think he deserved it?"

"_I'm_ the one who got us past the guards and past the trap at the vault. Leldon was just baggage." She scoffed. "He claims he "planned" it all. Not much of a plan if you don't know the guard patrol routes, or that the vault is _trapped._ If it weren't for me, he woulda never have gotten past the front door."

"Go on."

"So anyway, there's Leldon demanding a bigger share, and he's definitely planned _this_ part out. He's hired Bennon and his boys as muscle to make sure I agree. Well, the odds weren't in my favor - I'm delicate, you know? So Leldon and I argued for a bit, but I wasn't going to win that one so I got my tail out of there before Bennon got antsy." She frowned. "What's worse is they didn't just take my share - they took everything I had, and I wasn't in much of a position to argue, you know?"

"So what stunt did you pull afterwards that make them so angry?"

She blinked. "How did you know that I did something afterwards to make them angry?"

"Because I have ten younger brothers and sisters."

How many times have I said that since I started this journal?

"Oh. I see. So anyway, I couldn't just let things stand as they were. I mean, I _am_ the best. Leldon's good, and he gets lucky sometimes, but he can't hold a torch to me."

Neeshka grinned. "So I broke back into his place, stole all the loot... every last copper, and left a note explaining to him how I got past each one of his traps." Her expression turned to one that seemed a bit…sad. "I didn't get everything they stole back - especially some of the more precious things - but Leldon probably sold them by now anyway. Too bad. Still, I got back way more than my share."

"And the money? What happened to it?"

"Well, you know... a few coins here, a few coins there... it adds up. I have expenses. And stuff."

I nodded. "If they bother you again, come find me, and I will assist you."

"Hey, thanks! You know, letting you team up with me was a really good decision. You actually _help_ me - and you insult me a lot less than the other people do. And you're really big, and tough, and you can scare people really easily but I bet you're a big softie on the inside—or you're completely crazy. Either way, it's all good."

"Thanks."

She gave me a big, happy grin that seemed to be her trademark. "Anyway - about this mess - I guess the Watch will clean these bodies up. Or maybe there'll be a rain or something. Let's go!"

As we began to walk away, I spoke to her again. "You know that Leldon will learn of Bennon's death, and will attack with more men next time?"

"Yeah, but that's what I have you for! I stab and make sure no one stabs you, you run around with those big slicers and cut off limbs…we make a great team! We sort of balance each other out. Don't you think?"

I was oddly reminded of something my niece once told me. "You're big. And you need a little person to follow you around so that you can keep the big people from hurting them, and they can stop you from stepping on a little person." I think it applies to this situation.

"I can see your reasoning." I replied.

Just as we approached the Sunken Flagon, I noticed that the building looked somewhat burnt. Particularly the roof.

What now? I thought wearily and headed for the inn.

Three young mages stood outside the building. One appeared to be a sorceress, the others wizards. Duncan stood on the sidelines, trying to calm them down.

"Ladies, ladies... please, there's no call to lose our tempers over this..."

The red-haired sorceress glared at Duncan. "Temper? I haven't even gotten _warmed_ up yet."

One of the wizards sneered. "Being able to keep a rein on your spells is a sign of discipline, Qara - something _you_ could never master."

The other wizard jeered, "And the instructors aren't here to shield you. Go on, set fire to this whole street and this sad tavern, and you'll never be able to return to the Academy, let alone Neverwinter."

"As if I'd _want_ to stay in that prison with you high-nosed witches for another year." The sorceress sneered.

"You're right, here among the Docks is where you belong - peddling yourself for cheap coin." The first wizard spat.

Khelgar and Elanee stood outside, watching the events.

The dwarf grinned. "Rrrrr... someone get me a tankard, this is going to get good!"

Elanee smacked him.

Duncan let out a grumble of great discontent. "What in the Nine Hells did I do to deserve th..." He suddenly spotted me. "oh, thank the Gods you've arrived - do something, these ladies are about to start throwing spells outside my establishment."

I stepped towards the mages. "What seems to be the problem, girls?"

The second wizard nudges the first. "Look, Hetha. A drow. She must be one of the dock thugs."

Hetha addressed Qara. "'Friends' of yours, Qara? Sent to bail you out, perhaps?"

Qara's face turned crimson with rage. "I don't need anyone's help to turn you into ash."

"You still haven't told me what the problem is." I reminded them.

Hetha observed me with an arrogant expression. "There is nothing to discuss. Qara has threatened us for the last time, and we will stand for it no longer."

The second stood up. "Yeah, if Qara's so superior to us, then I say let her _prove_ it, without the Academy instructors stepping in to stop things."

"The instructors? They never stopped me before - you always went running to them, not me!" Qara roared.

By my gods, it was like being stuck in a highschool gym class.

"I've heard every word you've said about me. Always talking behind my back, ridiculing me, just because it takes _you_ a shoreman's hour to cast a cantrip."

Hetha scoffed. "And you think setting fire to a _stable_ while casting yours is any better, Qara? I practice... restraint... not showy, excessive displays."

"Yeah, Hetha is simply cautious in her craft, _you're_ the dangerous one, Qara." The second wizard put in.

Qara raised an eyebrow. "If you knew how dangerous I was, then you should have known better than to push me this far."

I rested my hands on my hilt. "Think carefully, girls. I'm not shy about shedding blood." I unsheathed my blades. Instead of setting them on fire, as I usually do, I allowed the girls to get a good look at the blades, still covered with the blood of Bennon and his thugs. Scare tactics often worked on wizards such as they, and it would be pointless to start a fight when I could simply frighten them.

Hetha looked uncertain. "I... I would not intervene if I were you, else we'll be forced to stop you as well...we are wizards, you know."

"Yes, wizards. From the academy. But we don't want any trouble with you, just Qara." The second contributed.

"You've studied the drow, right? You've read about their abilities, both physical and magical? Their resistances?" I gave them a hard stare. "I've slaughtered _hundreds_ of wizards, little girl. I won't think differently of another two." I paused, then spoke again, "Unless of course, you leave now, away from this establishment."

The second tugged on Hetha's sleeve. "Hetha, I don't want to fight a drow. She'll kill me before I can even think of a spell to cast."

Hetha scowled. "Very well... this isn't worth it. You're fortunate this time, Qara - next time, you better not let us catch you outside the Academy walls." She turned towards the second. "Come, Glina. I think we've smelled enough of the Docks for one day."

They left, and Qara turned to face me, a fierce glare on her face. "I didn't need your help. Those "wizards" had it coming."

I arched an eyebrow. "Did they?"

"Those noble-born-want-to-be mages are just jealous - they don't like the _fact_ that I can summon more power from my thumb than they can with a day's worth of concentration."

She sneered. "They're always staring into their tomes and books, trying to categorize magic, it's a waste of time - it just _is,_ and either you understand it, or you don't. It's instinct."

"Sounds to me like your lessons haven't been paying off." I said dryly.

"Well, the thing is - I'm not a part of the Academy anymore. I... quit. Sort of. After burning down the stable."

Duncan turned toward Qara. "Lass, you should have thought of that before starting a fight outside the Flagon - and the damage you caused before they even showed up..."

She shrugged. "It's the wood you use in the rafters, it sets fire easily. Sorry about that."

""Sorry?" Oh, lass, I wasn't asking for an apology." Ducan's voice was stern. "You'll be paying me back, you will - for all my lost business, for a tarnished reputation and for putting me and my kin in danger like that."

"What?! I'm not working for either of you. _Ever._"

"I think you will reconsider." I said coldly.

"Lass, you _will,_ or by Gods, you'll bring down a fury from me like you've never seen." Duncan threatened. "And not only that, if you don't, you'll be proving those other girls right. I don't think you're willing to admit you don't have discipline, restraint, or a sense of responsibility, like _they_ claim to have. Besides, I doubt you'll be welcome back at the Academy." He pointed out.

"Actually, Duncan, I could use some help in my travels. A sorceress would be quite useful." I suggested. I was not appreciative of her attitude, but she was useful to me as a sorceress. And her benefits outweigh my feelings.

Qara looked at me, sizing me up. "You want me to help you? Fine, but I warn you - you may not be able to handle me, but if you want to take a demon by the horns, then fine."

I almost laughed at the irony. "Sorceress, I've faced _far_ bigger demons than you."

**Later that night**

The fight earlier reminded me somewhat of a similar situation I experienced nearly four centuries ago.

A thirteen-year-old Ilivarra and an eleven-year-old Belraema stood ready, bracing themselves for a fight. A servant stood in the corner, quietly pleading with the girls to stop.

This was not uncommon. Ilivarra stood over Belraema. She was the stronger of the two in nearly every way, and she knew it. However, our mother still placed Belraema in higher esteem than Ilivarra. This infuriated the teenager, and she had taken out her rage by bullying her younger sister. However, Belraema was not innocent. She often provoked Ilivarra into fights, and then exhibited great cowardice at the sight of Ilivarra's enraged attacks.

Not pausing to enquire about the nature of their fight, I stepped between the two girls, lifted them by the scruffs of their necks, and slammed their foreheads together. Dazed, but not subdued, they began casting spells. So, I slammed them together again.

"Look at this. You two proud daughters of House Barrindar, squabbling like dogs in the very halls of this house."

Ili rolled her eyes, so I gave her a brisk shake. Bel snickered, so I gave her a shake as well.

"I don't care if Bel provoked you, or if Ili attacked you, you both are going to stop this immediately. I grow wearisome of this fued, and I do not ever want it to interrupt my daily routine. You will go to Reloniira for healing and I will forget I ever saw this. Understand?"

They nodded.

"Good. Now shake hands on it like well-behaved little girls."

Bel held out her hand, but Ili needed another shake before she would grip Bel's hand.

I dropped them to the ground. "Run along."

Ili left immediately, but Bel turned to glare at me.

"I didn't need help." Belraema spat. "I could handle her."

"You could try to handle her, but she'll hand your own ass to you." I informed her.

Belraema narrowed her eyes. "She thinks she's so much better than me. Someone should show Ilivarra her place. I'd do it if I were strong enough. I hope she dies. I hope someone bests her, and she suffers for it." She looked up at me, hopeful.

"I'm not going to fight Ilivarra. If you have a problem, then prove that _you_ are better, not me."

"Fine. But mark my words. One day…she'll pay. That bitch will get exactly what's coming to her. And I'm gonna be the one to show her."

But, Belraema never did show Ilivarra. She did not have the dedication, and was always nearly sloth-like in her pursuits. But if even Ilivarra's bullying could not push her, then she was perhaps a lost cause.

Perhaps this Qara is not a lost cause. She is clearly irresponsible, immature, tempestuous, and undisciplined—more so than usual for a teenager, but she may grow out of that. In the meantime, I will have to keep an eye on her. She is still a valuable ally.

The subject of my thoughts just passed by, but I will leave her be for now. She is still angry at her situation, and I must give her time.

For now, my group rests at the inn. Qara sulks at one of the tables, Neeshka tries to pickpocket one of the wealthier patrons, Khelgar tends to a tankard, Elanee meditates in a corner, and I write in this journal.

And all throughout this, the man with golden eyes keeps his gaze upon me.


	6. Part VI

Mordecay: Thank you again for your kind words. As for Bishop, I may or may not set him up with Sol. You'll have to read to find out. ;) An odd pairing though, by my understanding.

**4/14/1388 **

We spoke to Moire only hours ago. She was hostile to us at first, but that is to be expected. Evidentially, she is trying to gain control of the docks—in as bloody a way as possible. She commanded that I get rid of all the guards in district. I was able to do so without shedding blood—mostly.

When I returned, she was displeased by my methods. The woman is clearly vicious. She wishes to bathe the docks in blood, and was upset when she learned that I could resolve the matters without violence. Many people do not believe me capable of such.

"Caleb told me that you were a _butcher_." She spat. "Not a priest of Ilmater."

Well, it's a half-truth.

"The message you sent makes us look weak, vulnerable... especially to the Watch." She continued. "So I want you to send one last message - to the Watch headquarters. I want you to burn it down, and make sure no one gets out."

My voice was void of emotion as I spoke. "Very well."

"Now I have things of my own to attend to. Do not return until that building is ash."

Neeshka and I left afterwards. We made our way back to the Flagon, the only obstacle another pack of bladelings. What do they want with me? I shall learn the answer soon enough.

In addition to the bladelings, Moire's methods remained on my mind. I am not a barbarian, but I am not a pacifist either. Burning the Watch down is foolish. The only message it will send is that Moire is a malicious thug and needs to be exterminated like a rat. However, orders are orders, and I need to get into Blacklake.

I'm sure you're expecting me to say this, but Moire reminds me somewhat of my mother. Guliara was a brilliant leader, and brilliant matron, but there were times she made decisions that even I questioned.

"At last you return. What news do you have, Daughter?"

"The svirfveblin village was defenseless against our assault. We lost only three men, with eight injured. The prisoners are secured and awaiting your jurisdiction, as ordered, Matron."

"Good. Sacrifice them to Lolth. I want no man, woman, or child left alive by the end of the day."

I blinked. "Forgive my impudence, Matron, but wouldn't it be more beneficial to us if we were to interrogate them first? Some of them may--"

She interrupted my speech with a swift, brutal slap. I was knocked to the ground easily. She was always much stronger than me.

"They have NOTHING to offer me." She hissed. "See that they are all given to the Spider Queen, or you shall be sacrificed alongside them!"

I stood up, kneel before her. "Yes, Matron."

"Never again question my orders, Solafae. You may stand now. And remember, you will _never_ kneel before anyone but your matron." The threat in that statement was clear enough.

"Yes, Matron."

"Dismissed."

My fingers caressed the wound on my face. It bled from her nails, and it would soon bruise from the force of her blow. At that time, I believed that I should have felt some indignation for my treatment at her hands. I felt nothing.

That was over six hundred years ago. Eventually, I just stopped questioning. Only performing. But now, I have started to question again. What is the point of these questions? They are not practical. They will lead to nothing. Why can't I escape them?

I checked the time, hoping to distract myself from my thoughts. It was still evening, and it had to be night before I began the assault on the Watch building.

I looked over at our newest addition to the party. Qara was scrubbing tables on Duncan's orders. A plan formed in my mind.

"Qara?" I called, walking over to her.

"Great. What's wrong now?" was her surly response.

"I have a proposition for you."

"Say it and be done with it." She snapped impatiently.

Her words washed over me as harmlessly as a drop of water on a steel surface. "How would you like to burn down a building?"

"I'm listening."

"The Watch. Tonight. No later than three hours past midnight. That's when the least amount of patrols are out. I need you to set fire to some of the crates outside. The rest, you can leave to me and Neeshka. Are you interested?"

Qara smiled nastily. "Count me in."

"Good. Get some rest. I'll wake you when it's time."

The minute she walked away, Elanee approached me. "The Watch building? Are you serious?"

"It has to be done." I replied dispassionately.

The druidess sighed. "Are you always so fatalistic?"

"It has to be done."

"Ha." She frowned. "The ways of this city are strange to me. The ways of it's people too. Why would they ask you to raze a building to the ground when it's clearly there to help others?"

I shrugged. "You'll get used to it. Or not. It depends on you. Try to picture a city-dweller suddenly being thrown into the wilderness. I imagine it's much the same."

"Your words hold wisdom, Solafae."

She fell silent then, and I returned to my thoughts. Thinking of something, I asked, "Have you ever heard the term 'kalach-cha' before?"

Shaking her head, Elanee said, "It is not a dwarvish or elvish word... but I have heard some of the creatures who pursue you speak that phrase, like a title - or a curse."

I nodded. "That is what believe as well."

There was something familiar about it. It seemed…planar, almost. But I could not discern the roots of the language.

Another thought came to me. And the moment it formed, I knew I was going to regret it later. Finding a sheet of paper and a quill, I began to write..

"Duncan?"

"Eh? What can Uncle Duncan do for you?"

"I have a letter to deliver." I gestured to the paper.

"Well, one of the couriers should be back in town soon. I'll summon him."

"No, I don't trust this with couriers." I said in hushed voice, avoiding any eavesdroppers. "I need it to be given to a mage. Magically."

"Sand can probably help you out. Why? What's so important about it?"

"It's a family matter." Was my evasive answer.

"Ah." The innkeeper replied, catching onto my meaning. "He's still open. You can probably catch him now, if you want it delivered."

I gave him a nod of thanks.

"I'll be back in awhile." I told my still-awake companions.

"We're coming too." Khelgar informed me, a defiant look in his eyes. "Elanee and I have been cooped up for two days. We won't take it anymore. Besides, some more bladelings might attack you."

"It would be wise for us to accompany you." Elanee put in.

"Hey, can't keep me out." Neeshka said with a grin.

I blinked. They seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being. I looked out for the well-being of my group, but why would they care about my own?

"Very well. It's a simple errand. We're not going to see much action."

"You never know. Surprises and you seem to work together very closely." Elanee teased.

We arrived at Sand's shop moments later.

"Ah, well met again. And what can I help you with?" He greeted. "Perhaps I can use my considerable talents to stop the sorceress that recently joined you from providing her seemingly endless supply of irritation onto others, but I cannot do the impossible."

"You met Qara?"

"Why yes. We met yesterday, when she unwittingly found herself in my shop. Her ignorance would be amusing were it not so abundant with aggravation."

"What exactly is the nature of your differences with her?"

"It's really not worth a copper coin to go into at the moment - let us just say that we have... academic differences." He gave me a dismissive wave of his hand. "Besides, you're not here to discuss her, are you?"

I took out my letter. "Can I count on you to have this delivered to a certain mage?"

"That depends upon the mage."

"My sister. Ilivarra."

"Indeed?" He responded, attempting to mask his intrigue. "If I don't mind my asking, what is it for?"

"It is a question that needs an answer." I looked Sand over. He possessed intelligence, and a substantial knowledge of the arcane. The elf had proved that to me when I first showed him the shards. "Of course, I may not have to send it at all if you can give me an answer."

"In that case, do tell me your question."

"Have you ever heard the term, "Kalach-Cha," before?"

"Not until just this moment." The wizard appeared thoughtful. "It's not elvish, too harsh and guttural, but not as crude as orcish. The word sounds like a title, though, like "betrayer." Perhaps a linguist would know more, but not I."

"Very well. I need this sent."

"Certainly, Miss Barrindar--"

"Solafae." I corrected.

"Solafae. I shall send this immediately. If you can just give me the letter--"

"No," I interjected. "I will send it myself. I need a scroll of teleportation."

"I thought you were counting on me. Imagine how deeply that wounds me."

"The scroll, please." My sister values her privacy, and the spell requires a location. I shall not even write it in this journal, for she desires it that greatly.

Scowling, Sand handed a scroll to me. I thanked him for his trouble, paid him, and left the shop.

When we passed the alley between Sand's shop and an armory, my keen eyes spotted an animal. It was a wolf, somehow wandered into town. The ground below slowly dripped with his blood, his fur matted with the crimson liquid from the wound.

I beckoned for Elanee and pointed to the wolf.

Khelgar soon saw it as well. "Hnh. Looks like Elanee's bringing beasts into town."

Neeshka shot it a sympathetic look. "Poor thing. It should know better than coming into town... it should have stayed outside - just like Elanee."

The druidess ignored them and approached the wolf. "This animal... it's not a wolf. It's a druid... badly wounded."

I knelt down next to wolf. I inspected the wound, finding it deep and potentially fatal.

"This is beyond my skills. Elanee, is there anything you can do?"

"I will see... thank you for allowing me to treat this one."

I shrugged. "It's your power." She may treat whomever you pleases. So long as she remembers that the group needs her abilities as well.

A scowl curled her lips. "The blood is so thick, I can barely make out the wounds..."

I could here the wolf speak, a deep bass in his telepathic voice. "Are... are you from the Circle?"

Elanee nodded. "The Circle of the Mere, yes... but this is far from the lands we tend... and how did you come to be wounded?"

"It is far from my lands... I am a messenger only from the Circle of Swords of Neverwinter Wood, sent to find one of the Circle of the Mere."

I gave him a steady look. "How did you obtain that wound?"

"I picked up your scent, the scent of Maiden's Glade outside of these city walls... and against my instincts, I tried to come and find you. In my animal form, I was wounded by the city guards, and left here... I barely had the will to heal my own wounds... or even shift out of this form... left any longer, and I would be dead now."

His golden eyes fell on me. "It.. it is a strange thing - but as we come closer to the Mere, it becomes more and more difficult to shift from beast to human and back again."

"Why were you looking for us?"

"Whatever comes from the Mere, it comes for Neverwinter Wood as well. It was thought that the Circle of the Mere would know more of what strikes at us."

His gaze found Elanee. "I had hoped to find Vashne, or Naevan of the Mere, but you are the only one I have been able to find."

The druidess's expression saddened. "We found another. In the Maiden's Glade, Kaleil. And he said - he said that the Circle of the Mere was lost."

"But you would know it to be true or not. How is it you do not know the fate of your Circle?"

Elanee's expression did not change. "I have been away for some time, and my speaking with the elders - it has been over a year since we were in the same place." She frowned. "As for the troubles in the land, we suspect it may be tied to this one I am traveling with, and-"

"...we need to investigate it more before we can say anything for certain." I cut in.

Elanee glared at me. "The more everyone knows, the better we will be."

Perhaps, but it is rarely as simple as that.

The wolf shook his head. "If you have secrets, you may keep them - if they matter, they will reveal themselves in time." He looked at Elanee. "I will keep hunting for others of the Mere, as ordered. Know that the druids of Neverwinter Wood have been forced to retreat slowly from their tended lands. If you would speak to them, travel to the Skymirror, and use its powers to contact them - unless something has happened, you should be able to reach them."

"The Skymirror? Where is this place" I inquired.

"It is not far from Neverwinter, but you will need me to guide you... it is impossible to find the path without one of the Mere to guide you."

"Thank you for saving me - Elanee of the Mere and the one you travel with. With my wounds tended, I may continue my journey far from this city." He began to trot away.

Once he disappeared out of sight, the druidess narrowed her eyes at me. "He may have known something about the shards."

"If he did, then he would have brought it up, seeing as they concern us. Besides, how do we know we trust him with information that has already placed our lives in danger?"

"He was a druid, and he has done nothing but help us. Why are you so suspicious?"

"People are often used as instruments of someone else's will without their consent. That druid could have easily fallen prey to such a person or thing. Even if he was helping, his intentions or the intentions of others may not have been so pure. It is not often that you will meet someone that truly has _your_ best interests at heart."

Elanee stared at me. "How could someone growing up in a simple village such as West Harbor become so jaded?"

"I was not raised in West Harbor." I replied evasively.

The druidess was silent afterwards.

There was only one obstacle we encountered on our way back to the Sunken Flagon. Another attack on Neeshka.

When I'd sunk my blade into the last of the goons, Neeshka addressed me.

"Leldon's more obsessed than I thought. I wonder how many of his goons we'll have to carve up before he gets wise."

"If he sends more, than we will deal with them the same way we did the others."

"Yeah, I'm enjoying this. But it can't go on forever - if it did, he'd kill us out of boredom. Time to pay him a visit."

"I'm not certain Leldon is the one we need to worry about. At least he makes his grievances plain." An irate Elanee put in.

Neeshka paid no attention to her. "He'll be ready, though. Since he knows I'm here, he's got to know that I'll be coming for him."

"We should deal with him then." I said.

"I don't plan to kill him. This'll be too much fun to ruin it by killing him." Neeshka grinned, then turned serious. "Leldon's not going to give up. Trust me, he was my partner. I know him."

"What would you propose then?"

"He's got a soft spot, though. There's this coin of his that he thinks is lucky. He always has it with him on jobs, couldn't stop playing with it - real annoying."

Her tail began to twitch with excitement. "He's probably got it well-protected too. So I want to steal it out from under his nose."

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

Elanee spoke first. "If theft got you... and us... in this trouble to begin with, I fail to see how it will solve matters by stealing again."

Neeshka immediately protested, "Don't you see? If I can get my hands on that coin, he might give up. After all, without it his plans will always fail... at least _he_ thinks so."

"The scheme seems a bit…delicate." I said, trying to find a diplomatic word to describe it.

"I don't think it's even a plan. It doesn't even make sense." Elanee muttered.

Neeshka smiled. " I prove I'm better than he is by getting around his guards and traps, he gets worried, loses his nerves, and the attacks stop. What's not to like?"

"I'll tell you what's not to like." Elanee snapped. "Anyone willing to resort to murder over a theft isn't likely to stop because it's done to them a second time."

The druidess continued. "And furthermore, it has nothing to do with why we're here in the city - not at all. If we want to do something, we should seek out the druid loremasters in Neverwinter Wood, as I suggested."

Neeshka gave her a challenging glare. "Oh, so is that your problem? That we're not doing what _you_ want to do?"

A fight was close to breaking out.

"Maybe you haven't thought of this, but maybe there's a _reason_ you haven't come across any druids, have you thought of that? Maybe they're all gone, or in hiding, or they just gave up their duties - kind of like you have by being in the city." The rogue cried angrily. "I mean, why are you even here?! Huh? Why?"

I rose to my full height, towering over both of them. "I will not tolerate this. Stop it. Both of you."

"No - she deserves an answer." Elanee swallowed. "You are right, of course. I should not be here. But I do not know where else to go, and the only clues as to what may have happened to my Circle may lie with those shards."

She sighed. "So, yes, I do not wish to be in this city, I do not wish to be a burden, but I do not know what else to do to help... all I can think of is seeking out the druids in case they know what we _can_ do." The druidess smiled ruefully. "But I will go along with whatever our leader decides - if we help you, so be it, if not, then I will stand by that decision as well."

Neeshka looked equally rueful. "Well... all right. Maybe I wasn't explaining it well enough. But if we grab that coin from Leldon's stash, well... At least we'll have something to bargain with. He _really_ likes that coin."

I nodded. Making sure no one was listening in on us, I declared, "We will do this. But first, we're going to deal with the Watch building tonight. Tomorrow, we will deal with Leldon, and immediately afterwards we will search for the Skymirror. I think it would be wise to leave Neverwinter for awhile afterwards. For now, let us return to the inn."

Once Neeshka was out of hearing, Elanee whispered, "Do you really believe this will work?"

I gave her a flat look.

"Oh. Right. Ten siblings."

We soon reached the flagon. It was not yet three hours past midnight, so I sat at the bar and asked Sal for a tankard.

A pair of golden eyes caught my attention. The ranger was still sitting near the hearth, same as the previous day.

"Duncan, who is that ranger?"

Duncan looked from the ranger to me. "Bishop? Why do you ask? He treat you like dirt?"

"I've had worse." I said, shrugging.

"Well, not surprised he treated you like dirt - dirt's his life, he spends most of his time digging through it, looking for tracks." Duncan looked almost thoughtful. "Still, even his insults are a step up from how he greets most people - who he usually just grinds beneath his boot."

I was only insulted. Lucky me.

Duncan snorted. "Comes with being a tracker, I suppose - and being one of the best. He thinks it's rank and privilege of a sort."

"Where does he track?"

"Well, he's smuggled goods up and down the Coast... and he knows the Luskan territory like the back of his hand." Duncan frowned. "As long as you keep an eye on him, he'll get your goods - or you - where they need to go. Or if someone or something needs finding... well, he can sniff them out."

A true predator, it seems.

My foster-uncle shrugged. "To be honest, if he wasn't so at home tracking and killing things, I think he'd be a Luskan native - but walls and stink aren't for him, even if they're the only things in his heart."

"What is he doing here?"

"He... owes me, so I keep him on retainer, like a dog on a leash. It's a long story, not worth going into."

That certainly explained the ranger's anger. No one whose domain is out in the wild could possibly accept being cooped up in an inn.

"But if he gets too rude for you, let me know, and I'll club him a good one. Won't take him insulting one of my kin." Duncan promised.

I took a sip of my drink. "I can handle him."

An hour later, Neeshka, Qara, and I strode away from the burning Watch building.

Qara smiled, gazing upon the flames that still playing between her fingers. "That was fun. You should give me more buildings to torch, Solafae."

I scowled, recalling Highcliff, when I met one of the farmers, discussed the lizardfolk problem, and then stood there in stunned amazement when several lizardmen burned down her farm. Even though I solved the problem of the lizardfolk, I don't think Shandra will forgive me any time soon.

"You may find it enjoyable, but you should remember not to let it get out of hand." I replied.

The sorceress sneered at me. "You sound just like my instructors. Always going on and on about discipline, when really instinct and experience are the only real teachers."

"Instinct and experience have their place, and so do instruction and discipline." I said, meeting her gaze squarely.

"You _still_ sound like one of the instructors. I got sick of them real fast. The students too."

"Why were you fighting against the students?" I asked, curiosity invading my voice.

"Why not? They're always talking about me behind my back at the Academy, and I decided I wasn't going to take anymore." She put on an imperious expression. "I know more than they **ever** will about magic - they're simpering little girls who can't even levitate a fork if they wanted to."

"And what did they say about you?"

"Oh, that I'm dangerous, that I act all superior, that I talk down to them - so what if I do? All **they** get from magic is what they read out of a book."

"Is reading so terrible?"

"You tell me - is it better to **experience** something or read about it? If I have to explain that to you, then you're a lost cause."

And that concept just _fills_ me with discontent and hopelessness.

"I mean, I **know** what power feels like rushing through me - **they've** barely sipped from the stream."

"Enlighten me. What is it like?"

"It's like this shiver that starts spreading through you, a warmth, like it's coming from your heart and your head all at once. And you feel that warmth get **hot,** so much so you think you can burn anything in your path, yet you'll only be brushed by it." She took a deep breath. "I... I can't even explain it. But trust me, I know."

Us inferior people call it an orgasm, I thought with some annnoyance. Inside, I was growing more irritated with the girl, but my expression remained calm and emotionless.

"As I said before, I would appreciate some self-control on your part. Seeing as you're a superior mage, it should be well within your grasp."

Completely missing the sarcasm in my tone, the sorceress rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

**4/15/1388**

After reporting our exploits to Moire and receiving another name, we—by which I mean myself, Khelgar, Elanee, and Neeshka—headed for Leldon's place. I was reluctant to take Qara with us. She is a loose cannon, and I find it impractical to take her on any more missions before she learns some more self-control.

As I'm sure you suspected, we ran into something on the way to Leldon's place.

A little girl—obviously an urchin—ran between two men. The men were in the middle of a conversation, when one of them bellowed, "Stop right there, kid. We've got ourselves a thief!"

The girl's face was dirty as she turned around, but her pale eyes were full of innocence. "I was just running. I run fast."

The second man addressed his companion. "What's this about a thief?"

The first narrowed his eyes. "Check your coin purse - and don't even _think_ of moving, child."

"It's missing." The second replied.

Tears poured down the girl's face. "Please, sir, I'm just running. Can I just leave?"

The first man was growing angrier. "You're going straight to the Watch, after you hand over that pouch!"

I beckoned the attention of my companions. "We should go."

"Solafae!" Elanee protested. "You have a niece. What if it was her in this situation?"

I peered at the girl. Her face was dirty, her eyes pale blue, and her hair light blonde, but other than that…there was a certain resemblance between her and Xena.

I scowled at the druidess. "Very well."

By the gods, I'm going soft.

I turned to the men. "Let her go. She was just running."

They looked at me, their expressions turning incredulous.

"Just running?!" The first shouted. "She took my friend's purse! I know it!"

"Do you have any proof?" My voice was calm despite his anger.

"I... I... Blast it, if you aren't right." He tossed the girl an angry look. "But if I ever catch you, girl, you'll waste away in the stocks once the Watchmen get you."

They left, and the girl beamed at me. "Thank you. I owe you one!"

Elanee gave me a soft smile. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I returned her smile with a dirty look.

When we reached Leldon's place, we handled it with relative ease…until the male showed up with his guards.

"Neeshka." Leldon hissed, seeing her grab the coin. "Finally got smart, eh? Come to pay me back?"

The tiefling smiled weakly. "Leldon... heh... the thing is..."

"Save your breath. You'll need it to scream." Leldon drew his weapon.

I unsheathed the pieces of Hell's Fury. "You will not lay a hand on her."

"Yeah!" Neeshka cried out in excitement. "You don't have me outnumbered like last time. So if you want a fight, then come on - we'll carve you into bits."

The fight did not last long. The combined might of the four of us easily defeated our enemies, until only Leldon remained.

He smiled through the mask of blood that covered his face. "This isn't over... I swear it."

Before we could stop him, the thief threw a smoke potion at us. When it cleared, he was no longer present.

Neeshka waved her hand to clear away the smoke residue. "Phew... stupid... smoke potions. He always does that when he's lost a fight - the coward." Her expression became smug. "Still, that should have taught him a lesson - he'll never call _me_ "goat girl" again." She smiled at me. "Hey - thanks for your help."

"We should leave before more of his men show up." I suggested.

Neeshka nodded in agreement. "Let's a find a shop before we leave Neverwinter. I've got a bunch of stuff to pawn off now."

Finding a shop would be a beneficial move. We had things to sell, and my group needed better equipment.

As we searched the merchant quarter for a decent shop, a figure caught my eye.

It was a kobold, set up under one of the many canopies of the district. I recognized him as Deekin, the kobold my brother-in-law had hired during his trip into the Underdark.

"Deekin remembers you!" The little creature cried out when I stepped toward him. "You Boss's Girlfriend's big sister! You is still big and scary. Not like Boss's Girlfriend. She tiny for elf and yell a lot. Deekin think it funny, but he not tell her, because she kinda scary too. Deekin like her though. How be Boss and Boss's Girlfriend?"

"They are well. But you do remember that she is Boss's _wife_ now?"

"Oh yes. Their wedding nice, but I not like bard so much. Boss's Sister pretty and nice, but she not kobold."

"You're a merchant now?" I inquired, changing the subject.

"Deekin is merchant, yes. Confusing to Deekin, but Deekin figure it's all right to sit here and people give him gold to take away heavy stuff."

"May I make a purchase?"

"Sure! You help keeps Deekin alive in Underdark when scary drow lady try to take over. Deekin give you small discount."

The kobold had a decent selection of goods. I was able to find good equipment for my group, and Neeshka was able sell all the items she'd recently picked up.

Elanee observed a suit of armor with a little unease. "Solafae, are you certain you can afford--"

"Yes." My reply was quick and without hesitation.

"Really?" Neeshka was intrigued. "Where did you get all the money?"

"Neeshka!" Elanee hissed.

I shrugged. "It's a lengthy story. One that we don't have time for." That wasn't completely true. The story was short enough, but I did not wish to go into details.

Khelgar looked up at me. "Lass, is what the kobold said true? Did you fight in the Underdark?"

I was about to answer, but Deekin spoke first. "Oh yes! Deekin see it all! She lead forces against scary drow lady, because Boss's Girlfriend and her friends not know much about leading entire army. But Boss's Girlfriend say she be general before, and know much about leading army. She make tactics that let army win. But Boss and others defeat scary drow lady."

I could have strangled that kobold if I didn't require his goods.

"That will be all, Deekin." I said shortly, handing over the needed gold.

Once we were away from the kobold's shop, Khelgar looked at me. "You didn't tell me you were a _general_, lass. And those skinny moon-worshiping elves? Ha-ha!"

"You were a general?" Neeshka asked.

I sighed. More explanations.

"I lead armies of my house until it fell. After, I assisted in the leadership of the rebel army of the Underdark a decade previously." My taciturn and gruff tone informed them that this was all the information they were going to recieve.

**4/16/1388**

The Skymirror was only half a mile away. I had taken all of the group with me, not wanting anyone to be left behind in the aftermath of the incidents with Leldon and the Watch building.

"What is this Skymirror?" I asked Elanee.

"The Skymirror is a powerful scrying device, capable of speaking to others who have touched its waters."

"I see."

We came into a clearing. Elanee nodded. "The Skymirror is ahead, but there are challenges we must face."

"What do you mean?"

"The path to the Skymirror is a difficult path for anyone not of the Circle to walk - and it is also sealed against any who might accidentally stray near its waters, both for their protection and those of the Circle."

"Sealed?"

"It takes magic of the land to open the tides of the Skymirror. We may need to rest so I can cast the magic required."

"Do you need to rest now."

"It depends on the spell. I may need to rest in order to memorize it."

"Let's figure out the spells then." I walked over to one of the trees and crouched, observing it. "The symbol of a leopard."

"Cat's grace, obviously." Qara declared in a bored voice.

I ignored her tone and addressed Elanee. "You have that spell?"

She nodded and began the incantation. There was an effect on the tree, and it began to glow.

Qara gave me a smug look. "What did I tell you?"

"Good job, Qara." I said fairly. "Look at the other trees, see what you can figure out."

It took several more spell before an offering appeared in Elanee's hands. It was a scrap of bark, most likely needed to unseal the mirror.

I motioned for Elanee to present the offering.

"Give me a moment to center myself. And then, I can try to contact the druids of Neverwinter Wood." She placed the offering in the lake. "All it requires is placing this offering within the Skymirror's waters - and then we shall wait."

We waited several minutes. Several more passed.

"What's taking it so long--" Qara began impatiently, but was cut off by another voice.

"Elanee? Child, is that you?" The speaker was an image of brown-clad man, his voice disembodied.

"Elder Naevan? Can you hear me?" Elanee called.

"Yes, child... where are you?"

"I am touching the waters of the Skymirror - but I had thought to contact the druids of Neverwinter Wood, not one of my own Circle."

"I was traveling for the past season - not as long from the Mere as you, perhaps - and only recently have I returned from the Sword Coast."

"Elanee, who is this?" I interjected.

"This is Elder Naevan, one of my Circle... he has been a part of it for almost as long as Vashne and the others, but I did not realize he had left the Mere." She looked out to the water. "He cannot hear you - but I can communicate your questions to him, if you wish."

"Why was he traveling?"

"Elder Naevan? Why were you traveling? And where are the druids of Neverwinter Wood?"

"My path has been a long one. What I have found - and what I have not - troubles me. Like you, I have had no success in contacting the druids of Neverwinter Wood. I suspect they are avoiding me - or have cut themselves off from others."

"We encountered one in Neverwinter, and he had come in search of one of the Circle of the Mere - either you or I, but had found no one, not even Elder Vashne." Elanee responded.

"That is troubling news. And part of what drove me here." He frowned. "I returned... because I felt something was wrong with the Mere, and I have not been able to reach any of the other druids." The elder druid seemed distant. "This feeling from the Mere - it is like a black silence stretching through Merdelain, and even seeing through the eyes of animals and birds has proved useless."

Elanee swallowed. "Elder Naevan... we did find one of the Circle of the Mere. Kaleil. He was... maddened, and we were forced to fight him."

His eyes widened. "What? How did this happen?"

"Elder, I do not know. I fear it is tied to whatever is occurring in the Mere. And he said that our Circle - that it was lost. If so, we may be the only two left."

The druid's expression became one of…I don't know what the word for it is. Remorse and pity are present, but no anger at the news.

"We shall see with our own eyes first. This news of Kaleil saddens me. Was there no other way?"

Sorrow. That's the word.

Elanee spoke up. "Elder, Kaleil was driven mad. He had slaughtered the animals of Maiden's Glade, tore them apart while he was trapped in the form of a bear."

He dipped his head in acceptance. "Troubling. It must not have been an easy thing to do, such an act of mercy, Elanee."

"Elder Naevan, we came here to ask the lorekeepers of Neverwinter Wood if they knew anything of what was happening at the Mere…And we fear that whatever is occurring in the Mere is tied to a set of silver fragments we carry."

I glared at her. She had completely ignored my warning from earlier.

Naevan's brow furrowed. "Silver fragments? Like the one carried by that village girl you were watching?"

Watching me?

Elanee seemed a bit embarrassed. "Ah... yes. But she did not carry it, it was hidden near the village, I believe. She retrieved it from the Illefarn ruins there."

"Hmmm. That is a strange coincidence... but perhaps not. The darkness clouding the Mere, it is familiar in some respects to events that occurred at the time of the discovery of those shards..."

He continued. "During the war against the King of Shadows long ago, a similar darkness infested the Mere, though not as thick as it is now."

Long ago? It is strange to me how most surfacers consider a mere decade a great measure of time.

"Can he have returned? There were many battles fought in the Mere, and at its borders... one even at West Harbor." Naevan added. "Elanee, I must continue on to the Mere, and try to find what became of Vashne and the others. Even if they are dead, I must see it with my own eyes... and see what I can do to find out more about this threat and the shards you speak of."

Elanee nodded in acceptance. "Of course, Elder Naevan."

"Good fortune, Elanee. I know of your vigil, but now we must focus our sight back to where it belongs... on the lands we tend."

"I... I know, Elder Naevan. Forgive me."

"I will contact you when I know more - I will send a messenger. You will know it when it arrives." His tone became foreboding, and he began to fade away. "Until we meet again, Elanee, beware the shadows."

Elanee looked at me. "There is nothing more we can do here, I am afr-"

She abruptly fell silent. I turned around, coming face to face with a spirit, gazing at me with undisguised hatred.

"What's going on?!" I shouted to Elanee while myself and the group attacked the spirit.

"Something is wrong - the spirits are gathering. We must leave at once - we are not welcome here." Elanee answered urgently.

More spirits came to attack us, but we defeated them. As we neared the exit to the grove, a dark figure came into sight. Another shadow priest.

His dark voice sounded from within the confines of his mask. "Druidess, we have come for you. You have felt us in the land - now feel the touch of darkness upon you."

He flung a spell at Elanee, but it was absorbed by the power of my twin blades.

"Kill him." I commanded.

My group obeyed me, and the shadow priest soon lay in a bruised, burned, bloody, broken, backstabbed heap.

Elanee observed the corpse. "This is what summoned the protectors of the Skymirror here... this priest. But the way is hidden... how did he manage to find his way here?"

I shook my head. "We should leave now, and ponder that later."

Once we were well away from the location of the Skymirror, I turned to Elanee. "What did the Elder mean when he mentioned that you were watching me?"

She looked uncomfortable. "Do you recall the test I told you I was to take for my circle?"

"Yes."

"It was an odd test - some wished to send me into the civilized world, to a village on the edge of the Mere." She frowned. "But others of the Elders refused, and said there was little I needed to learn from a hamlet of outcast humans and dwarves."

"I take it the village was West Harbor. Why?"

"I do not know - I wish I had been given the test, tried to find out what they intended to teach me." Her frown deepened, becoming a scowl. "But then I think perhaps I would have suffered the same fate as the Elders... and other druids of the Mere."

"What was the test?"

"I think it was you, or involved you. When I said I did not go to the village to live - well, that was perhaps a half-truth."

I can hardly fault her for that.

"Many were the times I came to the village at dark, or during the fog of morning, to watch you fall asleep and rise." The druidess appeared distant. "I watched you for such a long time, that I felt I knew you without speaking. I watched as you stared out from your window, across the marsh and wondered what lay beneath it. Or…so I thought."

"Am I different from the person you imagined me to be?"

"More mysterious, more evasive, certainly." She continued with her sentiments. "And then it came for you, before I could stop it. And as your village burned, I wept for it, and for you. I, who had not cried in a century."

Why would she cry on my behalf? I require no sympathy. No comfort. I never have.

"I failed that test, and I failed you, and the Circle." She sighed. "And now the Circle is no more, and your village is filled with dead ones."

"You could not have known of the village's attack." I offered.

"Perhaps not... but I cannot help but think if I had taken the watch of West Harbor, then perhaps I could have prevented what was to come. But I shall never know. And it slowly crawls beneath my memories, like the Mere itself."

"It is pointless to dwell on loss."

"I know. But such a feat is occasionally quite difficult."

I nodded, but said nothing more.

**4/19/1388**

We go for Moire's superior, Axle, tomorrow. For now, we rest.

Sand strode into the inn. "Ah, Solafae. A letter appeared for you not two minutes ago." He handed it to me, once again trying to hide the look of intrigue in his pale eyes. He probably hoped that I would read it aloud.

Paying no mind to his interest, I opened the letter and read to myself.

I hope you are doing well. Mom has looked into the issue of the so  
called "shadow priests" and the githyanki. So far, she hasn't found  
out anything about the shadow priests other than what you already  
know. Which is nothing, I guess. Irr will probably find out more than  
she can. She's also gotten Grandad to look at it. Between the two of  
them, they learned that it's only one segment of the Githyanki society  
hunting you. A group called the "sword stalkers". Other than the name,  
they haven't learned anything. But all three of them aren't quite sure  
that the shadow priests and the githyanki are working together. Irr also  
thinks that the shadow priests may be part of a cult, like the one they  
encountered in Neverwinter before I was born. Of course, just the mention  
of the word "cult" makes them all jumpy. Even Dad. Mom's doing that  
neurotic "If I don't intervene all hell will break loose" montage right now.  
Dad's trying to calm her down. And failing at it. We'll give you an update as  
soon as Irr finds out something. He's always come through when it comes  
to information. You better not die. I'd never forgive you if you did.

I reread the letter twice, then burned it. It wasn't much, but I had a name to remember for when I entered Blacklake. Sword Stalkers.


	7. Part VII

**4/24/1388 **

Axle turned out to be the complete opposite of Moire. Whereas she is brutal and bloody, he is subtle and manipulative. He too was displeased with my methods, making the comment, "Perhaps after all this is over, I can give you a butcher shop all your own down on the Docks... if there's anything left of the Docks."

The irony is sharp indeed.

We have completed several missions concerning dock smugglers. Axle has now sent us to a place called Old Owl Well, where we are to find and escort a missing Waterdeep emissary to Neverwinter. We will report to a member of the Neverwinter Nine, Callum, and receive broader details.

For now, my party rests. I have taken Elanee, Khelgar, and Neeshka with me. Qara once again, is far too reckless for such a delicate mission.

A rustling occurred in one of the bushes. I signaled the others to stand their ground. Calling upon the innate power of my drow race, I summoned a globe of darkness. I was about to proceed with the next step of my plan when Neeshka leapt into the bushes, tackling and presenting a blond gnome.

His eyes were bright and wide with wonder. "My, swept me right off my feet there."

"Who are you and why are you spying on us?" I demanded.

"Spying? No-no-no, you misunderstand! I was merely observing you. You see, I spotted you all several hours ago, and I felt a tune coming on, so I had to observe you all once more." He stated jubilantly. "Would you like to hear it?"

Before I could answer, he began to sing.

"There once was drow, ever so bold.  
Leading a group through a quest  
About to unfold.  
The dwarf stunty yet big  
The demon girl craving gold  
The elf with hair full of twigs  
The leader's eyes were red like rubies  
And I don't know what they meant by this  
But some of the men they met before couldn't resist  
Saying that she had very nice b--"

"That's enough" I cut him off. Elanee and Neeshka were snickering quietly.

Quickly, the gnome began chatting again. "Oh, but I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Grobnar Gnomehands, probably guessing where that last name comes from, don't you, well, tends to confuse most people. Quite a collector - and maker - and teller of tales, I am, all the Gnomehands are…except the ones they hanged in Luskan. Working on quite a tale myself, you know, and the act of _composing_ it is a tale in itself..."

"Wait…are you a _bard?_"

"Indeed! I, Grobnar, am a philosopher, a poet, a cataloguer of flora, fauna, and all things wild and all things mechanical. _And_ I can give it rhythm. You see, it all starts with a tune, say about that bush, or that root, or that cloud, or that boot..."

I am unsure of what happened next. I had not slept in over twenty-four hours. I began to doze off, and when I came to my senses, it was nearly daybreak.

"...and then, after I had _welded_ the spring-mounted mechanical shield on my codpiece, I fired it, only to be thrown back almost thirty yards, right into a wall! Stung _quite_ a bit, I'll say that much, but what I learned was..." Grobnar suddenly smiled. "I say, all that discussion has really built up a hunger. Lost all track of time."

"What happened?" I inquired, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Oh, you were listening so intently you closed your eyes and lay down for a bit. Made some funny laughing noises at the right times, too, almost thought you were snoring." He dipped his head in a knowing manner. "No trouble, don't blame you - I barely notice the world around me once I conjure up a story, so if closing your eyes helps you concentrate, by all means! I knew this mage once who-"

"Do you know the way to Old Owl Well?" I asked quickly, before he could launch into another story.

"No. It's a little hard to explain, but I can show you, if you want."

Bards are dabblers, capable of the work of rogues, fighters, healers, and mages. Grobnar would be useful.

"Very well." I replied. "Travel with us, and bring us to the site."

"Excellent. Oh, you won't regret this. I mean, too many times."

**4/25/1388 **

Grobnar has indeed proven to be useful. We have made a journey meant to take twelve hours into only three thanks to him. The others consider him a fool and a twit, but I do not mind his demeanor.

"…And so, I grabbed the bird by the tail, but those razor sharp feathers cut my hand as you can imagine. So, I took out the enchanted toothbrush, and—Oh, look! We're here!" Grobnar cried happily.

The camp sat at the top of a hill. We began the steady climb to the top.

Once we reached the crest, I searched the man in charge. Callum stood in the center, giving orders to one of his men.

"….Unless _you'd_ like to report to Nasher that we're overrun because we couldn't find rocks, I suggest you drive some sense into your men and get that wall built."

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it, sir." The soldier responded meekly and ran off.

Callum turned to me, shaking his head. "I tell you, I've lost years off my life trying to get this rabble fit for service..." He looked me over, quirking an eyebrow. "And who are you supposed to be? Reinforcements?"

"Solafae. At your service, Sir." I replied, bowing.

"I'm Callum. Commander Callum to you. Lord Nasher sent me here to secure the Old Owl Well. So what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to escort the Waterdeep emissary to Neverwinter, Sir."

"Issani? He hasn't arrived yet, should have been here a tenday ago. I've sent a scout to look for him."

"Who are you anyhow? No one told me to expect more men, not that I'd be complaining."

"These missives should explain things, Sir." I told him, handing over the forged forms.

He scanned the papers. "Hmmm... everything looks to be in order. The Council rarely speaks in one voice." He frowned. "And when they do, it's usually after Lord Nasher's cowed them with the threat of taxes."

The dwarf shrugged. "Still, as long you're here to help, you won't hear me complaining. We need all the help we can get."

"Do you know what happened to the emissary, Sir?"

"No, my scout hasn't reported back yet. Though, I expect him soon. He's one of the best. In the meantime, I'm counting on you to help with our defense against the orcs."

"Yes, Sir."

"You have any military training?" He chuckled lightly. "Listen to me... my own Graycloaks barely know which end of a sword to hold and I'm asking you about military experience."

I almost smiled. "I have some experience, Sir."

"Good. I thought as such. Just remember that this is a military operation and don't try to be a hero."

No problems there.

"I'll expect you to help out with the defense of this camp." Callum continued. "You've already brought your own gear, so just find a spot to call home. And stay alert."

A cry suddenly rose from one of the Greycloaks. "Sound the alarm! Orcs! The orcs are attacking!"

Callum quickly rallied his troops. I waited to see hear his commands, then attacked the orcs with the rest of the sword-wielders. My party joined the ranks of the soldiers they best identified with.

The skirmish soon ended, I turned back to Callum.

He appeared rueful. "Another orc raiding party. We're lucky they haven't attacked in full force." The dwarf sighed. "Just wish I could make contact with whoever it is that's been distracting the orcs."

"Someone else is attacking the orcs, Sir?"

"Yes - someone's out there attacking orc patrols, and it's giving us a chance to build up our defenses."

"Beneficial, but potentially dangerous, Sir."

He nodded in agreement. "I've been at this long enough to know that you need to control a battlefield - and this new ally of ours is something I can't control."

"Any idea who this attacker might be, Sir?"

"The orcs have a name for him- Katalmach. They say he attacks without warning - and without regard for his enemy's numbers."

"Someone who doesn't play the odds doesn't last too long in my experience." Neeshka put in. "Well, except me."

Khelgar appeared respectful. "That's not a name orcs give lightly - it's a name they give to warriors who lose themselves in battle."

"It is odd that even orc trackers couldn't find him." Elanee chimed in. "Or that he would risk stirring up so many tribes in this region."

Grobnar spoke up. "Maybe this "kettle-head" person simply lacks basic math skills. You see, if _we_ were to face three hundred orcs, the odds... well, if you carry the two... might be..."

Ignoring my companions, Callum snorted. "Sounds like someone who wants to die to me. If we weren't here, it'd only be a matter of time before all the tribes in the Well hunted down this... Katalmach... and then his crusade would be over."

Another soldier ran up to Callum. "Pathfinder Willem reporting, sir."

"Willem. Did you locate Emissary Issani?"

"No, sir. But I came across his escorts - killed to the last man, but no sign of the emissary. Orcs, sir. They must have taken him."

Callum addressed me. "Sounds like you've got a new assignment. Your job is to escort the emissary to safety. If he's in trouble, you've got to help him."

"Sir. Yes, Sir."

"I'd start looking at Yaisog Bonegnasher's lair, northeast of here."

My companions were quick to comment on that as well.

"Bonegnashers? They're still around? They're hard to kill." (Khelgar)

"Sounds like a well-mannered fellow - judging from the name." (Neeshka)

"My, Bonegnasher _is_ an interesting name. I wonder what he would have done to earn it?" (Grobnar)

(Elanee simply stood her ground and looked concerned)

Callum continued, "His tribe isn't the biggest, but he's older and more cunning than most. At the least, he may have an idea who attacked the emissary's guards."

"The location, Sir?"

"I'll have Willem mark the Bonegnasher lair on your map. You'd better act quickly. If the orcs have the emissary, whatever they have planned for him cannot be good."

**Later that day…**

We cut through several orcish scouting parties on our way to the Bonegnasher lair. The first true obstacle we encountered was a caved in pathway, caused by a rockslide.

Khlegar let out a grunt. "We'll have to find another way around. It would take a dwarven engineering team a week to clear away this rockslide."

I observed the rocks, an idea slowly forming in my head. "Elanee, what you can you tell me about this rockslide."

"This rockslide looks like it happened not too long ago... the rocks are still loose, there's not much dirt packed between them." She said, looking over the boulders.

"But if someone were to climb them, they would remain stable?"

"I suppose so." Her expression became suspicious. "Why? What do you plan to do?"

I looked down at my hands. My privacy was little compared to the importance of my mission.

I concentrated, watching as my hands became claws. I dug one set of claws into the rocky barrier, soon followed by the other. My talons gripped the rocks easily, and I made it up the stones safely.

My hands returned to normal. I took a rope out of my pack and tossed it to my astonished—except for Neeshka—companions.

"Grab onto the rope one at a time. I'll pull you up."

Once they all were at the top, Khelgar turned to me. "By Tyr's right buttock! What happened to your hands, lass?!"

"We will have time for explanation later." I replied. "For now, let us find the emissary."

Several hours later, we stood in the main room of Yaisog's lair.

"Impressive. Even as prepared for an attack as we were, you still were able to fight your way here." The orc chieftain stared at me. "Before I kill you, tell me - why have you invaded my clanhold?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, unsheathing Hell's Fury.

"As for you... let us see how you do against the best of my clan. Guards! Attack!"

We easily slaughtered the best of his clan, and he soon lay at my feet, barely alive.

"No... spare me... my tribe still needs me."

Ignoring his plea, I began to interrogate him. "Where is the Waterdeep emissary?"

"Ah yes, the human. He is here. I should have known our attack would not go unanswered."

During my time in the blood war, some of the other devils I served with taught me some of discerning lies. It is not always accurate, but deception was clearly present in the orc's words.

"Who planned the attack?"

"Logram, of the Eyegouger tribe, was the one who ordered the orcs to attack. My tribe was given the honor of leading the charge. Chief Logram seemed to place great importance to this attack. We were told it would help turn the tide of battle against the humans here in the mountains." He grinned weakly, revealing rows of jagged teeth. "It was a glorious battle. The orcs suffered only light losses, while we slaughtered the human force."

"Where can I find Logram?"

"His lair is kept hidden, even from his warlords. I only know that his men always travel deep into the mountains, to the southeast, when they return from their raids."

"That is enough. Stand up and fight me."

"Then you shall see how a true orc warlord dies. Fighting to the death!"

He stood up and charged me, but I swiftly impaled him with my right blade. He let out a gargled cry, then fell to the ground in a deceased heap.

Elanee and Khelgar looked at me, displeased with my actions.

"His own tribe would have killed him for displaying such weakness before an enemy. I gave him an honorable death, by orcish standards." I reasoned. "Now, let's find this emissary."

Traveling farther into the lair, we came across a human male.

"Don't hurt me! I'm not in league with the orcs!" The man pleaded, cringing at my approach.

A lie.

"Who are you?"

"I don't know you. Who sent you? Are you here to kill me?"

"That depends entirely on how you answer."

"Issani. My name is Issani."

Another lie. Humans are not very good at disguising deception, past experience has taught me.

"Very well. I'm here to escort you to Neverwinter."

"Ah, then I can trust you. I am Issani, emissary from Waterdeep. I must thank Lord Nasher for sending a rescue party so quickly."

Neeshka spoke in a whisper, making sure that so-called emissary couldn't hear. "I don't trust him. Don't ask me why... just a feeling."

"I agree. And we'll expose his lies." Louder, I addressed the man. "Your credentials, please."

"Of course. Unfortunately, the orcs took them from me."

"The name of your contact?"

"Ah... yes. My contact from Neverwinter. Is he here with you?"

"You mean she." I held my blade to his throat. "No more lies."

"Clever. I found our conversation most enjoyable, but it ends now."

Before he could attack, I removed his head.

"Let us head to Logram's, and hopefully find the true emissary." I commanded, taking no heed of the headless corpse at my feet.

**Later…**

"…So you have devil's blood." Khelgar stated.

"And you don't know what type." Grobnar added.

"Perhaps your sister knows." Elanee suggested.

I shrugged. "Does it matter?"

I immediately fell silent, motioning for my group to do the same.

A war cry emerged from the side of the cliff. Orcish warriors poured down from the rocky sides, brandishing battle axes and heading in our direction.

I signaled for my group to wait for the opportune moments before attacking. Khelgar stood with me at the front, Elanee and Grobnar stood in the back, casting spells. Neeshka slipped into the shadows, waiting to strike with stealth.

The battle continued for some time, neither side gaining an advantage.

Another war cry sounded from the distance. A man with coal black hair and blue eyes appeared. He was obviously the leader, and a paladin by the markings on his armor. Human warriors followed him into battle, killing the orcs that surrounded us.

"Wh-? Hey! Those are our orcs!" Khelgar bellowed indignantly.

The orcs lay dead at our feet, and I turned to the leader of the human pack. "1I am grateful for your assistance."

"I am Casavir, and my men and I have been hunting this group of orcs for days."

"You are the Katalmach?"

"I am. We've been hunting the orcs here for many months. Recently, we have stepped up attacks, however. When Neverwinter finally moved to retake Old Owl Well, we redoubled our efforts - with the orcs being attacked from two fronts, it prevents them from massing to retake the Well." He arched an eyebrow. "I'm curious. Why have you ventured into the mountains? Surely you understood the risk in coming here."

"It does not merit your concern."

"Does it? We fight the same enemy, Lady…"

"Solafae. And there is no lady in me."

He smiled slightly. "If you believe so."

"Just tell me where Logram is, and I'll take care of the rest."

"If you intend to enter the stronghold of Logram, it is to the north. I can lead the way."

I looked over him. A paladin of no small power, he would be useful. There was only so much Khelgar and I could do to hold the front lines, and only so much healing Elanee and I could give. However, paladins are almost fickle in anything that does not relate directly to his code. And since my mission had some shady corners, I was concerned that he may jeopardize our mission because of a code. But, he was still a necessary addition to our group. And if he became a hazard, I would deal with him.

"Your help is appreciated."

"And you shall have it. Logram's death will be a serious blow to the orcs."

A female sergeant nodded in agreement. "We have lost some men, but I will assemble who I can and join you on the assault."

"No, Katriona - we have already lost too many, and a massed attack on Logram will only cost us more - I will be going on alone."

"Casavir... sir... we kept you from this once. I think it's best if..."

"Please, it is important that you do as I ask. Take the survivors, and fall back to the Greycloaks camp. Do what you can to help them and keep the pressure on the orcs. If we cannot defeat Logram, then he will come after them in full force, and the Greycloaks _must_ be warned."

The sergeant narrowed her eyes. "So after all this time avoiding the Neverwinter forces, _now_ you want me to stride right into their camp?" Katriona sighed. "Look... Casavir... let me go with you. There is no need to keep doing this alone - let us help you."

"You have your orders, Katriona. We'll meet you back at the Greycloaks camp after we have dealt with Logram."

"Very well. Good luck, sir."

Casavir turned to me. "Are you ready to take on Logram and his clan? I can guide you to the path to his lair."

"Let us rest first. It will do us no good to attack Logram while exhausted."

He nodded. "Very well."

We set up camp in one of the hollows of the cliff. No campfire was lit—we could not afford to attract more orcs.

Soon, only Casavir and I were awake. Curious about my new companion, I asked, "What are you doing in Old Owl Well?"

His ice-blue eyes locked with my blood-red. "Many who live in the shadow of these mountains have suffered greatly from orc attacks over the years. Families have been put to the sword, homes burned, and traveling merchants have been slaughtered along the High Road. It is time that the orcs be driven back."

"You and your group traveled here as well?"

"I did not come with these men. These are men and women who live here, who have been willing to lend me their swords. They have good hearts. Living here has made them tough, capable, and their knowledge of the mountain paths have made them invaluable as scouts."

"So you came here alone at first?"

"Yes, I thought perhaps by traveling here, my sword could make a difference, give the people living here some hope if Neverwinter itself could not protect them."

"I take it you have some problems with Neverwinter? Problems concerning faith, it seems." He is not as blatant as Ili in his dislike for Neverwinter, but it is still present.

"I do not have faith in a city or a nation, but the people within it. These people of Old Owl Well - they know the truth of this."

"One could argue that your actions are either quite foolish, or quite brave. Either way, you seem to have made quite an impact upon this region."

"I felt that one man could make a difference. And it seems Neverwinter has joined the cause, and between our two forces, we can accomplish a greater good." He cleared his throat. "But what of you? Why have you chosen to fight for Old Owl Well?"

"I have a duty to perform."

"For duty. I understand." He appeared intrigued as he spoke his next comment. "Forgive me for my candidness, but it is remarkable to meet a dark elf that believes in duty on the surface. Other than several of the heroes of Neverwinter fourteen years previously."

"Indeed so."

He would find out soon enough with so many companions to spread my story.

**4/27/1388**

We gained an unusual group of allies during our trip through Logram's lair.

As we came into one of the rooms of the lair, a pack of wolves cornered us. They snarled at us, then spotted Elanee, and began whimpering.

Elanee observed the wolves, concern in her green eyes. "They look like they're in pain. The orcs must be keeping them here, starving them so they'll attack intruders."

"I feel no need to hurt them."

But I would if I had too.

"Good... I don't think they want to hurt us, either. Maybe I can communicate with them." She crouched down and began making soothing noises. "The trick is to make yourself smaller, seem less threatening... and once they realize you mean no harm...'

Daeghun had given me similar advice years earlier, when I asked him to teach me something of the surface landscape.

Sure enough, the wolves sobered, becoming calmer and less aggressive.

"I keep getting images of the orcs here... there's several levels to this place, and it seems the one with the strongest scent... the orc leader, I think, stays on the level below." Elanee frowned. "But... they also caught another scent... I think a human came through here, not long ago - and one was led to the lower level, where the chief is. He smelled of the city too, but not Neverwinter. Closer to a body of water. The ocean."

"Did they find anything else?"

"There is another creature here. Below the chieftain's level, there is a humanoid creature clad in all black, seeming to carry shadows in his very scent."

Another shadow priest.

"Could these wolves help us against the orcs?" I asked Elanee.

"If they help us, they could be killed... I may be able to convince them, but it might be better to let them go free."

"It is their decision to make."

Elanee made some low snarls in her throat. The wolves stood up, snarling and growling.

"They'll help us... between their hunger and the pain they suffered at the hands of the orcs... they're willing to help us 'hunt.'" She seemed a bit worried. "I think they think you're their new pack leader, so be careful where you lead them, all right?"

"I'll do my best."

The wolves were able to lead us to Logram. When we arrived, Logram presented us with a sneer.

"Neverwinter dares not send its grey whelps to face me in true battle. Instead, they send assassins."

Casavir's voice was cold as he spoke. "We are not assassins, Logram. You sent the tribes against the people of Neverwinter who dared settle here... so we are here to stop you."

"So - the _katalmach,_ the one who has been attacking us, giving the grey whelps time to rest between each assault... why my men fear to face you in battle is hard to see." He looked between me and Casavir. "You die here now, _katalmach,_ you and this one from Neverwinter who leads you. Are you ready to die, drow?"

I unsheathed my blades in response.

"Finish them. And know that it was Logram Eyegouger who crushed these dogs of Neverwinter!"

After shouting commands to my group, I went for Logram. Without the support of their leader, the other orcs would lose faith in the battle.

He was shocked to see that I was indeed as strong, if not more so, as him. I tried to use his shock to my advantage, but he had enough experience to recover and fight. In the end though, I was the victor when I sunk my blades into his chest.

Surveying the room, I saw that my group had acquired some considerable injuries, but Elanee was quickly healing them. Only a few wolves had been killed.

Approaching the wolf leader, I crouched down, meeting his gaze with mine. "You are free to go, should you wish."

He held my gaze for a moment, then turned around, he and his pack heading for the exit.

After my group was properly healed, we headed deeper into the cavern. We came across a man, dressed as an emissary, and carrying himself as an emissary, despite his numerous injuries. But looks could deceive, so I remained cautious while dealing with him.

"Who are you? Answer wisely." I commanded.

He caught on to my veiled threat, but remained steady and calm. A useless endeavor on his part. If he were really a diplomat, he certainly would have sensed the subtleties in my speech without losing his composure.

"I see no reason to lie to you. I am Issani, Emissary of Waterdeep. My entourage was waylaid by orcs." He frowned. "They brought me here, where I have been... questioned. Quite painful, but I refused to cooperate with them.'

Not falling for his pretense of torture victim, I asked, "How do I know you're not lying?"

"Proving my identity is simple enough. My captors were rather... thorough during my interrogation sessions. They took many notes. Their own words should be enough to convince you that I am who I claim to be."

After searching the papers, I concluded that he was indeed the real ambassador. I spoke to him for some time, until he implored me to return to Neverwinter on his own. Elanee and I inspected him for any hidden wounds, then allowed him to leave.

"Shouldn't we leave too?" Neeshka asked. "I'm dying to pawn some new stuff to the kobold."

"A kobold merchant!" Grobnar exclaimed. "How fascinating. I simply must meet him once we return to Neverwinter."

"We will return to Neverwinter soon enough." I promised. "But first, there are caverns that I wish to explore."

Stepping toward one of the caverns, I peered at the environment cautiously before taking a step. In the Underdark, one always had to be careful when traveling through the wilds. The same held true here.

Casavir arched an eyebrow at me as he watched my safety process. "I do not sense anything amiss."

"Just because you cannot sense it does not mean it isn't there." I replied.

He gave me a slight smile. "You are indeed from the Underdark."

"What gave it away?"

"Besides the skin and the hair and the overall drowness?" Neeshka muttered. Our human paladin may not have heard her, but I did.

Casavir continued to speak, "No doubt you learned such protocols in a heavily cavernous area. The Underdark is such a place, and you are one of the natural races of the Underdark. Besides, how could you have grown up with your half-sister if you had been in separate places throughout your youth?"

Only a few scant hours for him to learn. I'm impressed.

"Yes, I am from the Underdark." I answered. "Why do you inquire so?"

"I am curious, my lady. Perhaps when we have time, you would share some of your memories of the place with me."

"Only if we have sufficient time. For now, let us focus on our mission."

He nodded. "Of course, Lady Barrindar."

"Solafae." I no longer go by such titles.

Several minutes later, we came across what was little more than a mass grave. Bodies—both orcish and human—littered the floor of the cavern. A stench rose from their unburied flesh, but it did not bother me. Their eyes were wide open in pain, having never been closed after death.

Casavir stared at the bodies, his ice blue eyes growing wider. "These corpses... I know these men and women, I served with them."

"What happened to them?"

"Some of these soldiers fell in battle against the orcs, but their bodies were never found." His eyes glittered with anger. "I do not know how they ended up here."

I was reminded of my sister's--Adintal's—tower after she became a fully trained sorceress. She began practicing the dark magic of necromancy, and the same feeling existed in this chamber.

"Necromancy perhaps. Or some other dark magic." I offered.

Neeshka appeared uneasy. "Look, I think we're better just leaving this place be. Don't you think?"

"We've come this far. And whatever creature that caused this will certainly come after us if we do not face it here and now."

She nodded. "Alright."

She was scared. Why? What was there to be afraid of? Fear…I have not felt such since I was a young child. Why hadn't she stopped feeling fear as a child? She had fiendish blood. Until her, I had never met a fiend that would allow even the smallest trace of fear to exist in their mind.

"I trust your instincts, Neeshka. But I still believe that we must face this."

Casavir nodded. "I agree. I want to know who has done this, and why."

Neeshka sighed. "All right... but sometimes I'd rather have something way, way behind me rather than face it straight on."

Leaving loose ends ensures a death at the hands of another in the future.

Khelgar grunted, "I'm ready for a fight. Maybe we can add some more orc bodies to the floor."

Elanee looked ahead. "As oppressive as this place is, we should see what is causing this... blight. If we do not, it may spread further."

As we pressed on, the source of the dead became evident. Someone was indeed performing rituals upon the deceased for their own means.

Horrified, Casavir spoke in little more than a whisper. "This place... someone is using the dead for experimentation... defiling their bodies instead of allowing them to rest."

Elanee shifted uncomfortably. "I feel the same darkness here as I felt in the Mere of Dead Men... it is like an undercurrent that runs through the ground, through the land."

"Ah, I thought I felt a stir within my domain... like a bright, shining light, trying to cast away shadow." A deep voice addressed Casavir.

We turned around to see another shadow priest, surrounded by minions.

"These people... what have you done to them? You deny them their rest, deny them their _peace._" Casavir spat.

"Peace? Come now... surely you recall how they died, paladin. These mountains have been covered in blood since your arrival." Had I been able to see his lips, I'm sure he would have been sneering. "After all, you led these dead into one glorious charge after another... I think what I have done is mercy in comparison." Coldly, he added, "And I shall also grant them a chance at revenge, I think."

I unsheathed my blades. "You're welcome to try."

"Our leader speaks true - you face us both." Casavir spoke up. "I do not know what power you worship... but I can sense the evil thick upon you. It has touched you, and it will soon run deeper than you know."

The priest chuckled. "Oh, paladin... shadows always run deeper than one knows... even deep in your heart, I think."

Evil is but a label. Shadow but a word. Such exists in every person's heart, no matter how much of a saint or sinner they are.

"But this talk bores me - and I would be a fool to turn away such new material for my rituals. Come now, shadow awaits."

Seeing as I'm still alive to write this, I'm sure you know that we prevailed. Casavir himself was the one to crush the skull of the priest beneath his mace.

We found little that could tell us of this cult of shadows, so we left the cave.

**4/30/1388**

Three days, and we have still not reached Neverwinter. Our progress was not what it should have been, but it was not lacking in interest. In addition to ambushes from githyanki, shadow priests, and bandits, I found my newest companion to be a decent conversationalist. Neeshka complains that he discusses Old Owl far too much, but I do not mind.

Casavir and I were in the midst of a discussion concerning military tactics, when he abruptly switched subjects. "Forgive me for prying, Solafae, but I have a question. You claim to be a priestess as well as warrior, but I have never once heard you speak the name of you deity in prayer. Which god do you follow?"

I hesistated for a moment. This man was religious—it may bother him that I did not know which god I worship. However, this man had also proven to be open-minded, and a valuable companion. It would do no damage to my cause if I were to tell him. That, and my other companions would tell him soon enough. "I do not speak my deity's name, because I am unsure which name to pray to."

"You do not know which god you follow?"

"No, I do not."

"How do you know that the path you follow is correct?"

"I try to follow the path that is best suited to our plans. My deity seems to agree."

He nodded. "I see."

"Now, I have a question for you, Casavir."

"What do you wish to know?"

"I am a drow, Casavir. My people and your orders have clashed for ages and will continue so for millennia to come. Why do you follow me?"

"A good question." He conceded. "I follow you because you have proven that you have the honor and integrity that most of the drow race lacks. You are an exception, and I follow you because you follow the right path despite your heritage."

Do I? I do not follow the path of the righteous, nor the sinister. My motives are governed by logic, not morality.

"Thank you for answering my question."

"Thank you for answering mine, my lady."

"Solafae."

"Of course. Forgive my mistake."

"Do not concern yourself with it."

Once he left, Neeshka approached. "Doesn't it bother you when he's around? His holy aura makes my skin itch. And that's if I'm meters away from him. Not at the hip like you two are."

"No, he does not." I arched an eyebrow. "If holy auras bother you, then didn't this occur before when you were with the priests of Helm?"

"No, I didn't mind those guys. I liked—Oh." A smile crept across her lips. "I see."

"See what, precisely?"

"Nothing, Sol. Nothing at all." She said with light quickness.

What was she talking about? I would reflect later, when I possessed more time.

**Later…**

We returned to Neverwinter some hours ago. The emissary had returned safely, and we would report to Axle the next day.

I had been listening to Grobnar for some hours, patiently hearing out his stories.

"…And so I raced back to the port, the gremlins chasing after me. Unsurprising, due to all the cheese those wood nymphs had covered me in. It would have been a delicious situation, had it not been so dangerous."

"I take it the townspeople were pleased?"

"What? No, of course not. They were furious. Particularly after the gremlins scared off all the horses and mistook the well for…Oh! New customers! Perhaps they wish a song!" With those words, Grobnar sped off, only to be assaulted by the ladies and their handbags when he suggested a song involving the word "Poker," evidentially not realizing that the gnome meant the card game.

"You must be as crazy as the gnome to be able to sit through hours of that." Neeshka scoffed.

I shrugged. "Perhaps yes. Perhaps no."

Casavir smiled. "I find patience to be quite worthy of praise, rather than mockery."

Neeshka sneered and muttered, "Paladin charm. Like that'll work on Sol."

"Perhaps you have the patience to inform me of the Underdark?" He asked.

I nodded. "Very well. I am no bard, however."

"That does not matter to me, Solafae."

I described the caverns, the crystals, the atmosphere of the Underdark. He listened intently, drinking in my every word. The surfacer fascination with the Underdark is beyond me.

When I finished, he smiled. "Thank you for telling me, Solafae."

He left after that, tired by today's events.

"Well, he certainly seemed intrigued by the mushrooms of your homeland." Elanee remarked.

She was teasing me. I eyed her suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm certain you will deduct the answer for yourself, Solafae." She said in the same voice. Afterward, she too retired to her room.

I frowned. I had no idea what she was implying, but the answer would come soon enough. For now, I would bide my time.


	8. Part VIII

**5/5/1388**

After encountering another set of Githyanki and an apprentice mage from Luskan, and Khelgar's monk priests (The priests gave him three trials. Trials concerning tolerance, fighting without fists, and family ties.) we finally made it into the Blacklake district.

"Look sharp." Our guide cautioned. "I don't want to have to tell Axle that I lost your sorry carcasses in the district. Not that I care, mind you."

"I'm getting real sick of her attitude." Khelgar muttered. I imagined that Neeshka and Elanee felt similarly to him, but her attitude did little to grate on my nerves.

Once we reached Aldanon's house, I spoke to our guide. "Wait here."

"Whatever." She replied with a roll of her eyes.

Quickly scanning the door for any sort of magical wards or tricks, I knocked.

An elderly man answered. "Hello! Hello! Have you come with the quicksilver? Funny thing quicksilver. So hard to come by nowadays, but so wonderful for all your concoctions. Why, just the other day…"

I waited patiently for him to finish. "I come not with quicksilver, but with a shard I need you to examine." There was no need for secrecy at this point.

"You brought another shard?!" I heard the sound of locks clicking. "Do come in!"

The sage led us into the living room of his home. Standing in front of the fire, the light cast a faint glow on his wizened face, but his eyes shone as brightly as a young boy who had just learned that Midwinter had come early.

"Now what is this you mentioned about shards? Handy things, shards. Always seem to get lost though. Don't know why."

"I have discovered several shards along the course of my travels…"

I went on to tell him of the shards and their seemingly magical capabilities, hoping that he could provide some answers.

His eyes seemed even brighter when I finished. "Great Tyr! What a tale! The moment you arrived I knew I'd be interested in meeting you - wish I'd known that when I first greeted you, would have saved some time."

"What can you tell me about these shards?"

"I've done every possible test on the shard but learned little. However, I've never had another shard to compare it against."

"Can you perform another test?"

"If you'd like some answers, I'll gladly run some tests on your shards. I have just enough quicksilver to do it."

I handed him the shards. He left the room to perform the tests.

The sage returned some time later. "My tests are complete. With another shard to use as a comparison... well, I learned quite a bit. Quite a lot, actually."

"What did you learn?"

"It appears these shards contain latent magical energy, either caused by a strong enchantment from when they were whole... or from their method of destruction. Furthermore, the shards resonate when they are brought together, increasing their magical energy output accordingly. These shards are pieces of a broken githyanki silver sword. Are you familiar with the githyanki?"

"We could start a bridge club." I replied sardonically. "What do you know of the swords?"

"The githyanki silver swords are forged with the special purpose of severing the silver cord that connects the form of an astrally projecting traveler to his or her material counterpart. They look like a regular githyanki weapon, until used in combat, at which point they turn into a column of flowing, shimmering liquid, really quite amazing, I'm told. I believe the shards that you have found are pieces of one of these silver swords. I presume the githyanki have come to Faerûn to recover the shards."

"Is there anything more you can tell me about the shard?"

"I wish I knew more. Ammon Jerro was the real expert. He actually possessed a silver sword."

"Where can I find him?"

"Well, he's dead now, so I'm not sure finding him will help you much." The sage sighed. "When word of Ammon's death reached me, it was from a messenger, who had heard it in passing... the nobles who ruled Neverwinter at the time must have assumed I would simply know if another scholar passed away, for they had not mentioned it to me - it was almost an afterthought. I learned later that it was partly due to what Ammon's family wanted... and what had been requested by the deceased, to enter life quietly and to leave it the same way. It is sad in this age when the passing of a humble scholar and indistinct. It makes me wonder... will anyone remember me when I am gone?"

Ignoring his question, I replied, "If Jerro's dead, where can I find his family?"

"Ah... the Jerro family was purported to have moved far away from Neverwinter following the war, and Ammon Jerro's passing."

"Where could I find records of their residence?"

"The archives here in Blacklake may have clues to the location of Jerro's sanctuary - his Haven, there may be something there that can help you."

We made haste to the archives. Unfortunately, the githyanki had the same idea. Far too much time was spent fighting githyanki and solving puzzles. When we reached the records, a single name stood out: Shandra Jerro.

"Shandra. Isn't that the farmgirl we met back in highcliff?" Neeshka spoke up.

A memory flashed through my mind.

"Do you mind if we look around to check? Just to be sure?" Neeshka drawled.

"Neeshka." Elanee reprimanded.

"Well, it's just the truth. And she asked."

Shandra gave us all a look of intense scrutiny. "Maybe you all better tell me what you're doing here. There's been too many visitors lately, and I really don't have the patience for it any more."

"The Elder asked us to come here to track down the lizardfolk." I replied honestly.

"Good, glad to see the Elder finally got wise enough to protect the grain shipments into Highcliff before winter hits." She gave me a weary look. "I've been alone out here ever since the others abandoned their farms and took shelter in Highcliff... and I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

She didn't seem to appreciate our presence at all. She would would appreciate a quick interaction. "We don't have time to waste. We're here to help against the lizardfolk, so tell us what we need to know, and we'll be on our way."

"Fine. I think the lizardfolk are striking from the ruins nearby - it's probably not their main lair, but it might be a staging camp."

"Mark the ruins on our map, and we'll be on our way."

"All right, here you go, but be careful if you go up there - you might end up stirring up more trouble for the village than helping."

I was about to thank her when something distracted me. A group of lizardfolk galloped through her crops toward her barn, holding torches in their scaled hands.

"Shandra, you may wish to turn around"

"What? Why? What's going on behind…" The farmer turned around to see her farm ablaze. "…me?"

Her eyes were wide. "My barn. And the harvest..." Her eyes narrowed to outraged slits. "I let down my guard for a second - and they were waiting for it. Waiting until I got distracted."

"It will be safer if you go to the village. Perhaps you should have left earlier." I offered.

She glared at me. "And perhaps you should go to the Hells. What, you think it was any safer there? Ask a few sailors in town if they agree."

"Fair enough."

"Look, if you're going to help, _do_ it - I'm so tired of Neverwinter, and Fort Locke, and the militia and the elder and all of them promising to help us out and nothing ever _happening._ Just once - just this once - if you can actually do something for Highcliff, for the farmers here, it'd be long past due."

I looked at my group. "Highcliff it is."

**5/6/1388**

We hurried toward Highcliff. Once we arrived (to my great displeasure) the githyanki had gotten there first.

A number of Githyanki were chasing after Shandra. "There she is! Capture her! Zeeaire wants her alive!"

"What in the hells is going on?" The farmer cried, running into her house and bolting the door shut.

The githyanki leader cackled when she saw me. "Things have turned out well for us, my brothers - the girl and the _Kalach-Cha_ both within our reach. Take one team and capture the girl - alive. The rest of us will deal with this one."

We dispatched the team that had been sent to deal with us. We then decimated the second group, which had only managed to break down the door to the house.

We soon found Shandra. She was not pleased to see us. Or perhaps just me. "_You_ again? Don't come any closer!"

"You need to come with me. Now."

"What? I'm not going anywh-"

Another group of githyanki promptly burst into the room.

Shandra ran out of the room, her final words, "Why won't you all just leave me alone?!"

After dealing with this next group, we went in search of Shandra.

Shandra's hands were wrapped tightly around her head, shielding her from any potential danger. Her eyes went wide as she saw me. She quickly grabbed a book and held it up like a club. "Stop right there. What do you want with me?"

I sniffed. The acrid smell of smoke was slowly filling the house. They were going to smoke us out.

Quickly, I snatched the book out of her hand, grabbed her by the waist, and slung her over my shoulder.

"HEY! Put me down you hulking oaf! What's the matter with you?!" She began cursing and beating her hands into my back, but I paid no attention. My focus was on getting her and my group members out of the house.

Once outside, I dumped her unceremoniously on the ground.

"What the HELL is wrong with you! I--" She fell silent, spotting another group of githyanki.

I tossed her a knife, which I had pulled from my boot. "If any of them get too close, use this."

She simply nodded at me, still trying to take in the situation.

A few well placed blows and the next group perished.

I looked over at the farmer. The knife I had given her was bloody, and a githyanki lay at her feet. She could fight, after all.

Shandra surveyed the bloody and burned landscape with a rueful expression. "So my barn _and_ home are both burned to the ground. Any more of your 'help' and all of Highcliff will be the next to go."

"I did not mean for this to happen."

"I'm sure you didn't. Anyway, I think it's best we part ways now - you go your way, I'll go mine."

"You're not going anywhere."

She scoffed at me. "Really? I don't think so."

The girl scrambled to her feet and ran away. A moment later, she ran back toward me, another group of githyanki in pursuit of her.

Yet again, we destroyed the group.

"Thanks - maybe I should have stuck with you after all." The farmer admitted.

"Enough of this. You're coming with me."

She shot me a worried glance. "Look, we really need to get out of here before more of these creatures show up. Do you know of anywhere safe that we can talk?"

"Nowhere is safe for you now, but I'm taking you to the Sunken Flagon."

"Why not. My barn's gone, my house is gone... are we leaving right away?"

"Yes."

**Later**

Duncan grinned at our approach. "Well, now, I see you've brought someone new to my establishment. Now who is this young lady?"

"Her name is Shandra. She's under my protection now."

Shandra stared at me, surprised. "I am?"

Duncan's smile never left. "Please, lass, come in, come in. Make yourself at home. This here is the Sunken Flagon, I own it - you'll be safe here." He turned toward our resident gnomish bard. "Grobnar, play a tune or something, make the lady feel welcome."

"Why, of course, I was just th-"

"Look we don't need a lecture on what passes through your head and out your mouth. Just _play._"

Shandra gave me an uneasy look. "Well, the innkeeper certainly runs hot and cold."

"Don't concern yourself with him. There's things we need to discuss."

Shandra pulled herself to her full height. "All right, I agreed to let you bring me here, now I want some answers."

"You're entitled to them."

Exasperated, Shandra near-shouted, "What happened at my farm? Who were those creatures? And why were they after _me?_"

"I don't have all the answers... I was hoping you might have some." I replied candidly.

Casavir spoke up, "Shandra, we realize this is difficult, but your life may be in danger - and I swear to you, we are trying to protect you, not make more trouble for you."

Catching a good look at the handsome paladin, Shandra became meek. "All right, sorry. Guess the whole thing's hard to take all at once."

Neeshka sneered and muttered, "A little paladin charm sure calmed her quick."

"But... what could I know that's so important?" Shandra asked.

"It is not what you know, but what Ammon Jerro knew." I told her.

"Ammon Jerro? He was my grandfather. Or my great-grandfather...or was it my great-great-grandfather?" Her brows knitted in puzzlement. "I heard he was an eccentric, but humble wizard - but he died a long time ago. What's he got to do with this whole mess?"

"Do you know about Ammon Jerro's Haven?"

"My mother told me about the Haven when I was a child. I thought it was just a tale she used to make me do my chores on time." A slightly nostalgic smile lit up her face. "She always threatened to lock me in there if I wasn't a good girl."

"The Haven is real, and I need to find it."

"I have no idea where it is. Knowing its location wouldn't help you much anyway."

"Why not?"

"My mother said something about a... path you have to walk to get to it. Like a series of challenges, but I don't remember what they are." Her tone became edgy. "She also said getting into the Haven requires a pint of fresh blood. And not just any blood will do...it has to be Jerro blood." Her eyes suddenly went wide. "Wait... is _that_ why you "rescued" me? So you could _bleed_ me?"

Neeshka grinned. "It's an option?"

"Shandra, if I intended to bleed you, wouldn't I have done so already?" I appealed logically.

Casavir shook his head. "That was not our intention, Shandra. Please... hear us out."

Shandra glared at him. "Well, if you think I'm going to some dark dungeon that used to give me nightmares, well... think again."

"If Ammon Jerro was "eccentric, but humble," it's not likely his Haven is a place to fear." I reasoned.

The farmer appeared thoughtful. "Hmmm... you know, I never thought of it that way. You may be right."

"Hopefully I am."

"Look, I can barely think, let alone stand. I really need rest... we can talk about this tomorrow."

Casavir nodded, "Perhaps we should retire - we all could use the rest. Shandra, I believe Duncan has rooms upstairs."

Duncan nodded eagerly. "I do."

Shandra appeared startled. "Oh... uh, thanks for the hospitality... uh, Casavir, right? I appreciate it."

"Of course, you have been through a great deal, it is the least we can offer."

"That _I_ can offer, he means." Duncan put in. "My inn, you know, always eager to help a lass in distress, we are, here at the Sunken Flagon."

Shandra began her slow trek up the stairs. Afterwards, I turned toward Casavir. "Thank you for your assistance."

"My pleasure, my lady." He smiled. "It is important for a knight to know how to speak to a lady."

Elanee and Neeshka suddenly had a coughing fit. I arched an eyebrow at them. "Are you two alright?"

"Fine. Fine." They both wore knowing smiles. Whatever knowledge they possessed was absent to me.

Oblivious to the two women, Casavir smiled at me once more. "Until morning, my lady."

That phrase sent them into another coughing fit.

**5/7/1376**

My eyes snapped open from my slumber. A githyanki warrior stood over me, ready to sink his blade into my heart. My own fighting instincts kicked in, and I tripped him. Before he could recover his balance, I strangled him with my bare hands.

I heard Duncan's cries of an attack below. There was no time to don my armor. I grabbed the pieces of Hell's Fury and headed downstairs.

"The Kalach-" The githyanki paused for a moment, startled by the image of their feared enemy charging at them in nothing more than her underwear. "-Cha! Get her!"

Taking extra caution to protect my unarmored body, I slaughtered the githyanki like pigs.

When the last creature had fallen, I looked around, searching for the farmer.

"Where's Shandra?" I enquired.

"Gone." Casavir announced. "I believe the githyanki have taken her."

Duncan stared at the paladin. "That lass, Shandra, has been taken? How in the hells did those githyanki get into the city?"

"Does that matter?" A rough voice asked. The owner was the golden-eyed, brown-haired ranger. He stood up, drawing his blade out of the corpse of a githyanki soldier. "You'd best hurry if you want to get her back."

"Hurry where? We don't know where she is." I said coldly.

"Look, this one has a sprig of Duskwood trapped in his boot. That means they came from deep within Luskan territory... and that's where they'd be returning to."

Duncan surveyed the ranger. "Luskan... that's your territory, Bishop."

He shrugged. "Yes, but it's not my problem. I'm not going into Luskan territory for some farm girl, and certainly not with any kin of yours, Duncan."

"Oh I think you will." Duncan's tone abruptly became forceful. "You'll help them, Bishop, whether you like it or not."

"And what makes you th..." He stopped in mid-sentence, seeing the unyielding look on Duncan's face. A sneer curled his lips. "Calling it due, are you, Duncan? Are you sure?"

"A woman's life is at stake, Bishop. If that's what it takes to move you to do the right thing, then so be it."

"Fine, it will be worth it to be rid of you - and for such a small price, too. You're a fool, Duncan."

"So be it. You will help Solafae."

"So your name is Solafae." He smirked, eyeing me from head to toe. "Nice outfit."

"Can you lead us there or not?" I asked coldly.

"I can." He surveyed the rest of my group. "All right, pack your bags and grab your weapons. We're bound for the Luskan border. Follow my lead and don't try to be clever. If the Luskans catch us, they'll use us for target practice."

**Later that day**

We approached the village known as Ember. It looked like a ghost town. Silent, abandoned. Lifeless.

Bishop signaled for us to stop. "Hold on - something isn't right."

"I agree - the village is abandoned, no villagers... and no livestock. There's also no wind rustling through the trees. So heavy magic is at work."

Bishop seemed impressed. "Good eyes - I noticed the villagers, but you're right about the livestock. And perhaps the magic."

"I'm sure of it. The place is trapped."

"We're on the trail of our friends, though. They're moving fast, but it looks like we've closed in a bit."

"We should wait here, see what happens."

Qara gave me a look of outrage. 'What? We've come all this way, now we're going to sit around and wait. Forget that!"

"Now, now, little empress, you just listen to your leader here, might just save your life." Bishop chided.

To my great surprise, Qara fell silent. I could have kissed him if he weren't repulsive.

"You're being a little cautious, don't normally care for that - but here, I think you're right." Bishop informed me. "Keep your eyes open and your weapon handy. I smell an ambush."

Sure enough, a group of githyanki indeed ambushed us. Qara stood in the back, shooting flames at our enemies. Bishop stood back as well, firing arrows. Casavir and I took on the heavy combat. Neeshka went to work backstabbing our enemies and disarming the traps.

Once the githyanki lay dead, people began to slowly appear from behind bolted doors.

Bishop wiped some blood off one of his arrows. "They left a large force in this village... which means it'll be easier on us when we catch up to the others - as long as we catch them before they go to ground."

"If their forces are divided, good - but that means the remainder will travel faster, and the trail will be harder to follow." I replied.

"Eh? Well, now, aren't _you_ a bright ray of hope."

"And you're as bright and shining as mud on a cloudy day." I replied acidly.

Casavir narrowed his eyes at the ranger. "She was just pointing out the realities of the situation, Bish-"

"I suggest you rein in that attitude of yours, paladin - what, you think our leader can't speak for herself? She just did. Or did you not hear her?" Bishop answered snidely.

"It was not my intention to speak for her."

"Yeah? Then don't - and maybe next time you'll sound convincing." The ranger's gold gaze fell on me. "What I was going to say is our leader's right... and what's more, our friends won't be leaving an obvious trail this time, since they don't have the men to bait any more ambushes."

I shook my head. "We have wasted enough time as it is. Let's move on."

"I second that." Qara muttered.

Bishop nodded. "Fine by me. Let's leave this worthless village behind, th-"

A village woman slowly approached. "Forgive me... you... are you hunting a woman, Shandra Jerro?"

"Did you see her?"

"Those creatures, we heard her screaming as they were carrying her off - I tried to call out to her, but... I didn't realize they had her at first, but she makes a merchant run through Ember and Port Llast during harvest season. We hadn't seen her yet this year, though, and-" She suddenly stopped. "Sorry, where are my manners – I am Alaine. Please, I saw the beasts taking her to the mountains to the north and east - they barely have an hour on you, but they were moving fast. And thank you for saving us from those creatures, I can't th-"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. We'll do what we can to rescue her."

Casavir nodded. "You have our word, Alaine. We shall do what we can to return Shandra safely."

Bishop's eyes flashed angrily. "We promise no such thing. In fact, she could be dead - but we'll follow this trail as long as we feel like it. Now run back home with the rest of your scared kinsfolk."

My countenance cool, I said to the woman. "Forgive him, Alaine, it takes a dog to hunt dogs."

Bishop laughed. "That's the truth - ah, I think I'll like this journey." His smile quickly returned to a scowl. "Now, can we go without more mewling dogs getting in our way? Every moment we wait, the trail gets colder."

"I agree. Let's go."

As we passed through the town, Bishop began to speak to me. "How did you know that those traps were there?"

"Observation. I've seen such traps created before."

"Yes. By your sister no doubt."

Only a few hours and he already knew of my family.

"She is a mage and a former assassin, yes? Doesn't seem the type to give a damn about a city in peril. Neither do you for that matter."

"You're quick to judge, seeing as you know neither her nor me."

"I observe too, Solafae. Was I correct?"

"If you ever meet Ilivarra, you may ask her yourself. As for me, keep observing."

He smirked. "Fair enough."

A small boy stood in the distance at the edge of the town. He peered at me, his eyes wide.

"It's you... you're the one who will destroy Ember."

"What? Why would I do that? That's entirely impractical."

"Is it?" Bishop sneered.

I glared at the ranger. "Bishop, this is the only village around for miles and we can't find everything in the woods. Use some common sense."

Awed, Qara said, "That boy's got a lot of power streaming off of him - I almost can't _see_ him, he's burning so bright... it's blurring the air around him."

The boy's expression took one of realization. "Wait... no... I was mistaken. Strange... the killer looks like you, but isn't." He sighed. "Ember cannot be saved. All within the village when the time comes will perish except one - me."

A child seer, I realized. Such an occurrence was rare. I had read of such gifts, but the only person I ever knew of that possessed such a power was Eilistraee's seer. This boy could be very useful in the future.

"I think you are carrying something which will allow me to survive. You cannot help me in any other way."

"Very well." I opened my pack to him. "Have a look and see if I have anything you can use."

He scanned my pack and shook his head. You have nothing I can use. What about him?" The child asked, pointing at Bishop.

Bishop glared at the boy. "What _about_ me?"

"Bishop, let him have a look." I commanded.

The ranger's face became set in a deep scowl. "Fine. Try to take anything, and I'll take both your hands as trophies. Got it?"

Marcus looked over Bishop's bag. "Your knife - it is... different. I believe it can save me."

"My skinning knife?" Bishop cocked an eyebrow. "I've had this thing forever, there's nothing special about it."

"What's so special about that knife?" I asked the boy.

"There is a power sleeping in it, but it will not awaken while it is in your hands."

"I see. Bishop, give him the knife."

"No. Unless this knife is going between his eyes, it's staying with me." Bishop said defiantly.

I resisted the urge to grit my teeth at his insubordination. "I'm not going to force you, Bishop. But I am going to suggest that if you do, I will be much more inclined to reward you ten times over, and if you don't, I'll be far more eager to make the rest of this journey a living hell for you. Do I make myself clear?"

"That so? Fine... but I'm not going to forget this, _or_ how much you owe me."

The child thanked us and scampered off.

We continued our path. Neeshka strode up to me. "Wow, Sol, that ranger is really getting under your skin."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying, not even Qara bothers you as much as he does."

She was right. Bishop irked me.

"There's little I can do about it. We need his help."

"Yeah, I guess."

The githyanki enclave turned out to not only be crowded with githyanki, but with demons and devils. The three groups seemed to be in constant battle with each other, which made getting through the complex somewhat less complicated. I saw that the fiends were led by a hooded figure, but he always disappeared before I could speak to him.

Eventually, we came across a devil plagued by two succubi. We killed them.

The devil smiled at their carcasses. "Well met. I am grateful to you for ridding me of those... nuisances." He continued, "I doubt that was the reason for your timely arrival, nevertheless, your actions have benefited me. I wish to help you in return, if you will allow it."

I frowned. Deals with devils are tricky matters. "What can you do for me?"

"I offer you free passage to your destination. You see, I am not here by choice. I was bound to this circle by the githyanki... old enemies of yours, I believe. Once bound, I was forced to shape the barrier you see ahead to prevent any... trespass."

"So how do the githyanki pass, then?"

"Oh, it was not the githyanki that commanded such a shaping. My fortunes have shifted, and I have passed from one master to another. The soul of the githyanki who summoned me was devoured by a tanar'ri, a demon named Zaxis... a recent arrival. By consuming her, Zaxis has gained the githyanki's power over me... and I cannot disobey his command. If nothing is done, the barrier, unfortunately, will remain."

He was not lying. But he was telling the full truth either. I switched my words from common to infernal. Let us speak in the words of our heritage, and settle this matter.

We discussed the matter, and he gave me his true name to open the door, in return I would only use it to banish him.

"Mephasm, I command you be banished from this plane."

"At last... I feel the circle unraveling... and look, the barrier relaxes into its normal shape, as promised. I shall call it to me, so you might see... look, barely a pebble, and an obstruction no more. Here, keep it, it may be of use in the time between our next meeting." He smiled sinisterly. "We _will_ meet again."

"So be it."

We dealt with Zaxis afterwards. A low-intelligence creature, he was easy to trick into banishment.

Finally, we came upon the inner sanctum of the caves. Shandra stood in a cage off to the side. An imposing woman stood in the center of the room. Zeeaire, the githyanki leader.

Her black eyes narrowed at the sight of me. "Though these demons were unanticipated, your arrival was not. I have seen it burning brightly in my visions for some time. How long did you think you could escape us? You have stolen our shards, defiled them with your touch, and now you will die, _Kalach-Cha._"

I squared my soldiers and met her gaze. "You will return the girl. I care little if you are alive or dead when that occurs."

Shandra called out, "Trust me, once she gets on your trail, you're doomed."

"Know that you are in no position to demand _anything_ from me." Zeeaire hissed. "You will answer for your crimes... along with this frail thing that carries the last of the Jerro blood."

"I deserve to know what crimes I've committed."

"You don't know your crimes? Very well, let me recount them." Her voice rang with accusations. "You have slaughtered many of our people, and you hold in your possession relics sacred to the githyanki a... silver sword of our people - fragments of it."

"You don't sound very certain of yourself." I said coldly.

"You put too much importance on your actions and your crime. You have nothing that other thieves have not stolen before. You think there is something special or unique about your crime - or the shards you carry? There is not."

"Sounds to _me_ like you are protesting too much."

I tried to taunt her. A mistake on my part. Luckily, Neeshka was able to salvage the situation.

"You were right! She _does_ know the importance of... the sharp silver thing. The shards! You can tell she's lying, it's written across her…face."

The githyanki leader's black eyes flashed angrily. "You dare to presume to know more than I about this matter? You know nothing of what you have done nor the importance of what you carry!"

"So these shards are part of something _more_ than a silver sword?" I inquired.

One of the guards spoke up. "Zeeaire, forgive my words, but... I, too, felt the power from the shards when the _Kalach-Cha_ entered - and when I gathered the shards you carry."

"As did I. This seems a matter greater than us - our Queen should know of it. It has been too long since we have sent word to her of our... actions here." Another guard chimed in.

I almost smiled. Divisions within her troops meant good things for me.

"Ignore the words of the criminal, they are deceptions... she seeks to manipulate you as our illithid masters once did, do not allow it!" Zeeaire cried.

Bishop looked impressed. "Looks like she lost some face - I think we may be able to count on some defections if things turn nasty."

"If we live, I'll have to get something nice for Neeshka," I responded.

Zeeaire was incensed. "I have recounted your crimes - you shall stall your punishment no longer."

"What do you want with Shandra?"

"Why, the same thing _you_ want from her. She is the last known descendent of one who stole a silver sword from us."

"Ammon Jerro stole one of your silver swords?"

"You already know the answer... the time for your deceptions is over. Now you will face your punishment, _Kalach-Cha._ It is why your path brought you here... and why the shards you carry will soon be added to mine." She tilted her head in an imperious manner. "Know that I will hear your pleas... and allow you this one last chance to atone for your crime. My offer of mercy is this - I will grant a swift, painless death for you and your companions, if you freely hand over the shards you have taken."

"I don't appreciate your lies. If you want the shards," I unsheathed my blades. "Come get them."

She raised her hand, chanting a powerful spell.  
Right before my eyes, the shards flew from my pack to float in front of me. A terrible agony seized my chest. It took every instinct I possess to stop the urge the drop my blades and clutch my chest.

Zeeaire's eyes widened. "You have a piece of the Sword inside of you."

How is that possible, I wondered.

"And I shall remove it from you - by force." Zeeaire promised.

Streams of mage light surrounded her. Other githyanki chanted beside her, obviously channeling their power into the magic that surrounded her.

Take away the power source, take away the power, I thought as I began beheading the chanting githyanki. Zeeaire howled in pain, as though I had cut her instead of her companions. By the time I reached her, she had been weakened considerably.

She was difficult to fight, but we prevailed over Zeeaire and her guards. Once she was down, I surveyed my companions. Bishop and Casavir had a few scratches, Neeshka was nursing a broken ankle, and Qara was a bloody mess. I motioned for Bishop and Casavir to tend to Qara, and I handed cast a spell on Neeshka.

Once I was certain that my companions would live, I approached the dying Zeeaire.

'You... think this is over? You are wrong, _Kalach-Cha,_ and I hope the pain you have brought here is revisited upon you a thousandfold."

I knelt beside her. "Enlighten me."

"The Lich Queen will know of my fall... yes... but it will be too late." She coughed, a handful of blood streaming from her mouth. "What comes for you will be revenge enough."

"And what comes for me?"

"We were never the ones you had to fear. In defying us, you have harmed your own people - and everything on your plane. The githyanki will strike at you no longer - this was the last of our strongholds devoted to the recovery of the shards... there will be no more attacks from my people, because it will serve no purpose... you have sealed your fate."

"So I am doomed. Enlighten me more- your life's running out."

"The shards you carry were needed... the shard in you - all are _needed._" She chuckled, then choked on another round of blood. "Evil wakes, _Kalach-Cha,_ and in killing me, you now stand alone against what comes."

"And what is that?"

"An ancient enemy comes for you, one that has existed for millennia. You have already felt the effects of his presence, and he will grow stronger with time. This enemy, this King of Shadows... if he succeeds in his plans, your civilization will become dust, and all life will be consumed by darkness." She laughed bitterly. "I will watch from afar."

Leveling my cold gaze at her, I ran the blade of Hell's Fury across her throat in a fatal slash. She let out one last gargle, but it was incoherent to our ears.

Bishop nodded in approval. "And that's all we need to hear, I think."

Casavir frowned. "She deserved to say more - everyone deserves a chance to atone, all the way until death comes. But it is done... let us rescue Shandra and leave."

I strode over to Shandra's cage. Seeing no key, I examined the bars of the door. Metal. Iron. Gripping the bars, I began to tug. Slowly, the hinges broke and I tossed the door aside.

Shandra blinked at the display of strength. "Didn't know you could do that."

She was weary, shaken. It showed in every line of her face. She gave me a weak smile. "I'm getting _so_ tired of this. You have to let me save you sometime, or else I'll never be able to pay you back."

Bishop smiled nastily. "Oh, there'll be plenty of time for you to pay _all_ of us on the way back to Neverwinter."

"You all _put_ me in danger! I'm not paying you a single coin."

"Well then you'll be paying me another way. My bedroll's a little cold at night - I'm thinking you can fix that."

Shandra snorted. "Oh, please. The smell would kill me first."

"You wound me, girl. Don't worry, I'll get to you soon enough."

Casavir, Qara, and Neeshka were about to add their piece, but I spat out my response first. "If you don't watch your tongue I'm going to cut it off and feed it to another dog like you, ranger."

The others stared at me, while Bishop just chuckled. "Jealousy's thick in this little band, I see. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten _your_ pretty face, fair leader."

To my surprise, it took a great deal of restraint to keep from slapping him across the face.

"Enough of this, let's just head back to the Flagon right now."

Hours later, we arrived back a the Flagon. Duncan ran right up to Shandra and hugged her about the waist. "Good to see you again, lass."

"Uh…thanks."

My concerns were not nearly as jovial. I kept thinking about the shards. Particularily the one inside me. I thought of asking Duncan about it. But it was not the time to demand explanations.

My thoughts must have shown on my face, for Bishop strode up to me and said, "Why the long face, fair leader? Somebody die? If so, sounds like a cause for celebration to me."

I gave him a dirty look.

His smile never left. "Grobnar, you worthless half-man, strike up a tune... before I strike you."

"Of course, Sir Bishop, it so happens I have just the tune..."

I let out a sigh. "What do you want, Ranger?"

"I've decided it would be in both our interests if I stay on with you."

"I'm not paying you, if that's what you're after."

He gave me a look of mock hurt. "I'm hurt, you would value our friendship so lightly. I don't need more money, traveling with you is the most fun I've had in years."

Having heard our conversation, Casavir glared in the ranger's direction. "We don't need any more of your help."

Duncan added his piece next. "No, no. There's no need, Bishop. I'm sorry for before, but you've done more than..."

"Oh, come now, Duncan - I still _owe_ you. And what better way to make it up to you than watching your kin here?" He smiled sinisterly. "After all, a debt is a debt... all the way until the end. Isn't that right?"

Bishop's intentions were far from pure. I would unravel them surely enough.

A bit nervous, Shandra approached me. "I hate to ask... but what happens now? I can't go back to my farm, ashes and all."

"I still need you to get into Ammon Jerro's Haven." I reminded her.

"Careful. Any more compassion from you and it could kill me." she muttered sarcastically.

Bishop grinned up from his seat at the bar. "Well, then, as long as we simply _need_ her with us, and don't want her, I'll drink to that."

"Maybe you should watch your tongue, Bishop." Casavir snapped.

"And maybe you should _listen_ with your ears, paladin. Our leader calls the shots, we just obey - as will the farm girl in time."

Defensively, Shandra said, "I really appreciate the sudden interest from the both of you, but I can take care of myself." She frowned. "Besides, whenever I'm alone, that's when the problems seem to crop up."

Khelgar trudged toward us, a stern look painted across his face. "If she's going to be with us, she'll need to do some catching up... we can't just keep on rescuing her all the time."

"Rescuing me? I can rescue myself!" Shandra said hotly. She became quieter. "Sometimes, when there's not too many lizardfolk. Or githyanki."

"You can fight, Shandra." I informed her, remembering the githyanki she had managed to slay. "You have potential."

"Well... I know enough to use a sword and can handle myself in a fight. I mean, I'm no spellcaster, but if you need an extra blade…"

I waited patiently for her to continue.

"I admit - you've rescued me twice now - and if you're going to help teach me to survive these attacks, I accept." She took a deep breath. "But there's some things you're going to have to accept, too."

"What might that be?"

"I don't like being left behind. Because whenever you're out of my sight, suddenly all this trouble starts happening, and I'm _really_ tired of it."

I almost smiled. The girl has spirit.

"So... look, I won't try to get in your way or anything, but I don't want us to part ways again," She looked down. "I've... I've, well, lost too much already." When she looked up, her eyes were full of fire. "You're not leaving me behind. All right?"

"Fair enough. You have the potential to become an excellent fighter, Shandra. I give you my word, I will train you."

She nodded. "Then that's all I ask."

"So the farm girl's going to join our band? Good. We need someone to make up for the paladin - or at least to catch arrows if Grobnar's already dead." Bishop muttered. Louder, he announced, "For now, I say we crack some of those kegs and drown the Flagon in wine."

I could really learn to hate him.

**Later**

I dreamt again last night. Strange that I dream now, for I never I dreamed in my first life.

In my dream, I traveled down a road. It had been two months since I had led the rebel army on behalf of my sister. I had been traveling ever since.

I smelled smoke in the air. The smell of battle. Something else too. Demons. Hordes of them.

A gripping chill came over me. I had not fought demons since my time in the blood war, months previously. Memories of over a century of demonic slaughter came to mind. Never in the blood war had I given into the siren's song my Baatezu blood keened for the death of tanar'ri soldiers. For the first time, I felt my control slipping.

A cold greater than the ice winds of Cania engulfed me. All rational thought vanished. I was left with nothing but my diabolical instincts as I charged toward the battle.

The air was thick with smoke, the buildings of the small village torn and burning. The bodies of demons and humanoids littered the ground. The survivors fought in a crazed battle, desperately trying to gain an advantage, neither winning. Others fled the scene. Civilians trying to avoid the casualties of war.

_Humanoids. Allies._ That was all I needed to know before I ran into the fray, methodologically slaughtering demons with the ease of a butcher cutting meat.

The humanoids seemed shocked by my presence, but soon returned to the battle. Their spirits seemed to be oddly raised by the assistance of a devil-drow, but it was enough to change the tide of battle.

Sometime during the battle, I challenged a balor lord. He let out a roar at my seeming impudence, and sent such a blow my way that I was knocked backward, and flew through the window into a hut.

I frowned and swept the broken glass away from my eyes. My gaze fell upon two elven women, desperately trying to shield a small bundle. A child, I would learn later.

_Civilians. Needed for after war. Protect._ I ignored the accusations in their eyes and turned towards the window. The balor advanced towards me. Roaring once more, the demon lifted the roof off the house.

I can't help but think that a true devil would focus on the demon. Yet, I sped toward the women, using my swords and myself to shield them against the falling debris. I swung my swords at the chunks, deftly swatting them aside.

Once I was certain they were safe, I lunged for the balor. One quick strike and his head fell to the ground.

The demons under his command howled at the loss of their leader. Seeing me as the greatest threat to their existence, they ran toward me.

I remember little of what happened next. All I remember is fighting demons. Usually the dream ended with that, but this time the image of a silver sword appeared. It had been released from the grip of its owner, and flew through air—straight toward the elven woman and her child.

I struck the blade with my twin swords. It shattered, and the shards went flying. One shard hit me in the chest, and that was all I could remember of the battle.

The dream did not end there. For the first time, I was able to remember the first time I met Daeghun, when I awoke from my exhaustion one week later.

"Your god has been good to you." A reserved voice commented as I awoke.

I looked toward the owner of the voice, seeing an aging elven male. He was surrounded by several villagers, but I took no heed of them. "I have no god."

"If you didn't before, then you have had one since this last battle." He knelt next to me. "I am Daeghun Farlong."

"Solafae Barrindar." I had no idea why I was being so honest. But I suspect that the healing potions they used on me were laced with some sort of truth serum. A wise decision on their part. Why trust one fiend when your village had just been razed by an army of fiends?

Excited whispers followed my declarations. My sister's name and those of her companions rang in their speech. Evidentially, the group was popular amongst the villages near Neverwinter.

Attempting to change the subject I looked down. I had been stripped to my undergarments, but there were no wounds upon my form. "Why did you heal me?"

"You saved many lives in that battle. My wife included…for a short time." His voice gave way to just the barest hint of deep grief.

"I didn't have any control over what I did in that battle." I whispered. "If I saved your wife, it wasn't by my own choice."

"Regardless, you gave me two more days with her. And I thank you for that." Once again, there was no emotion in his voice, despite his admission of gratitude.

"A shard broke off from the sword that nearly killed me. Where is it?"

"It needed to be taken out in order to heal you.." Daeghun replied. I frowned. It seemed he wasn't telling me the full truth.

We spoke more. Evidentally, the elven woman—Esmerelle—and her child had not survived the battle. But Daeghun's wife, Shayla, had lasted for two days afterwards. Daeghun was grateful to me for that.

I was still recovering from my wounds, and Daeghun informed me that I could stay at his home. Seeing as I had no where else to go, I accepted. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. People began to refer to me as his "foster daughter" because of our similar mannerisms. Daeghun himself followed suit. I never questioned it. I made myself useful in his home, and I was undeniably a part of it. In drow society, I would have certainly been a daughter of "House Farlong."

Years later, I asked my sister about the frenzy I had experienced. She had called it "Fiendish rage", similar to the Beserker rages that took over some warriors. It was more common in demons, but it occurred sometimes in some devils. She supposed that my frenzy had been brought on by the sudden withdrawal after being surrounded by demons, only to be thrust in the midst of demons once more—a shock to my system is what she called it.

When I asked why I would protect the civilians instead of attacking the balor first, Ilivarra grinned and said, "Perhaps my friend Arwen had some sort of effect on you when you met that stuck throughout your frenzy. She tends to bring out the best in people. Particularly drow for some reason. Whether they like it or not." She would not say anything else on the matter.

But now was not the time to dwell upon dreams. Now was the time for answers. I slipped into a loose shirt and breeches, strapping my swords to my belt.

When I came downstairs, Duncan was still awake.

"What can Uncle Duncan do for yeh?" He greeted.

"I wish to discuss the shard…the one in my chest."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Duncan," I leveled my cold devil's gaze at him. "Don't lie to me. I want answers. And I want them now."

He sighed. "I suppose Duncan's already told you what happened after you passed out."

"I'd like to hear your version."

"As you know, The King of Shadows himself led an army of demons against the Neverwinter army, which had gathered at the village. West Harbor was struck suddenly, without warning. There was panic... confusion... villagers fleeing every which way to escape the battle. But Daeghun's wife Shayla... and her friend Esmerelle did not."

"Why not?"

"They stayed behind, to save Esmerelle's daughter. As demons and magefire rained upon the village, they fought to reach her crib. By the time Daeghun even realized they were missing, it was too late. He could only watch from a distance as the village was consumed in the battle."  
"And how does this involve me?"

"The town had almost given up hope when you showed up. You started killing demons in a frenzy. Sort of like that katal-mach character your paladin friend acted as. Gave people hope."

I waited for him to continue.

"They found you inside that broken hut. Your horns, tail, and wings were out, so they thought you were another demon, and were going to kill you to. Shayla stopped them. Said you had saved her life, and done everything you could to save Esmerelle and her daughter."

"Then what happened?"

"The healers did everything they could to save you. They got rid of all the wounds but the one in your chest. They thought that would do you in, but you kept going. The wound sealed itself up within the week. Most people thought it was a god's doing."

As did I.

"Is there anything else you were keeping from me?"

"Look, I wanted to tell you, but..."

"Is everything alright?"

I turned to see Shandra, standing in the doorway.

"Everything's fine. We were just discussing some recent events." I walked toward her. "You should get some sleep. We start weapons practice tomorrow. Whether you're well rested or not."

"If you say so."

"Your enemy will not wait for you to be well-rested before attacking." I cautioned.

"Rain, sleet, snow or hail, huh?" She smiled wryly. "Goodnight, Solafae."

"Rest, Shandra." I commanded.

Taking my own advice to heart, I began a steady climb up the stairs.

But I knew I would not sleep again that night.


End file.
